More Than My Friend
by Dude13
Summary: Two stories about the trials and tribulations of Frankie and a certain eight year old boy, the little brother she never had. [COMPLETED]
1. More Than My Friend: Chapter 1

My first fanfic! Hooray! This is an idea that I started playing with in my head for a few weeks before I finally just decided to write it. It's going to revolve around mainly Frankie and Mac, but not in the romantic sense. Enjoy, but be gentle! This is only my first fic.

Disclaimer: I do not own Foster's Home for Imaginary Friends

* * *

"Why you little…!" 

Frances "Frankie" Foster grumbled as she wrestled in vain to try and pull a rather large bed sheet loose from one of the many washing machines in the laundry room of Foster's Home for Imaginary Friends. She had tried before to find whatever the sheet had gotten snagged on inside the machine, but that had been to little avail as all she was able to locate was more bed sheet. Now, all Frankie could do was this agonizingly long game of tug-of-war with the animate object, one in which unfortunately at the moment she appeared to be losing at.

"Oh but Miss Frances, just think of all the water that we'll save if you put just a few more sheets at a time when you do the daily wash." She said sarcastically to herself in a mockingly fake British accent, before slipping into an angry rant. "Stupid Mr. Herriman for stupid telling me to put more stupid sheets at once in a stupid wash! Conservation my ass! Do I have to go through this every single day just so Sir Fuzz-butt can save a couple dollars on the water bill? Screw that! I just…want…this…to…come…OUT!" she screeched, going at it again in her one-sided tug-of-war-game. However, after another good minute of fruitless pulling, supplemented by plenty of angry swears, Frankie finally threw her end down with an angry groan. Massaging her temples, the defeated redhead sat down dejectedly in a nearby pile of clothes waiting to be washed.

Once again, her all-too-numerous duties as caretaker of Foster's seemed to be getting the best of her once again. Why did this always happen?This made absolutely no sense to her at all. It was basically the same routine every day; get up, feed the friends, clean up for the friends, clean up the house for the friends, clean the bed sheets and clothes for the friends, feed the friends again, etc, etc. With nothing to do but cook and clean, it seemed like she should've gotten this down easily long, long ago.

But no, Frankie reminded herself with a groan. It could never be that easy. It was always _something_. Dinner would burn to a total crisp just because she got sidetracked for a minute. Every time she would need to make an emergency trip to the store, the Foster's bus would conveniently break down. She would be ordered to go and break up a water balloon fight on the _ninth floor_ while she would still be cleaning up breakfast on the _first floor_. Sometimes she would simply mix things up in all the chaos that went on at the house, like accidentally throwing the turkey for that night's dinner into the dryer and tossing the good towels into the oven.

Also of course, there was always the endless parade of bizarre messes and accidents that it was always her job to clean up every day. Just last week, much to her great displeasure, she found that she had to suddenly deal with what felt like two tons of tapioca pudding that "mysteriously" appeared in the fourth hallway, covering the walls from head to toe. Five hours straight, ankle deep in gooey gelatin dessert, that had _not_ been a fun day as she remembered none to fondly. However, of course, not even this was the worst of her troubles. Through all the cleaning, cooking, mopping, stewing, fixing, Frankie never had a second's rest from the constant orders, lectures and reprimands of one Mr. Herriman. Always criticizing her work, giving her five new chores when she just finished one, always needing her at the most inappropriate at times (how many times he burst into her room while she was dressing she stopped counting a while ago), all his stupid sayings and proverbs, etc. etc. Despite the fact that he was her beloved grandmother's imaginary friend, one day she would just like to grab the stuck-up rabbit by the ears, take a mop handle, and…

_Whoa, geez! Let's not go overboard here! Just forget about it. _Frankie thought to herself with another depressed sigh. She just had let it go. That was the way things were, that was the way they were going to be. She had to face the facts, suck it up, and take on her endless list of chores, _alone_, as she always did.

Well, not _completely_ alone. As if on cue, the laundry room doors suddenly burst open. Frankie reacted quickly by shielding her eyes, as almost heavenly rays of light flooded the room and shined down upon the dejected twenty-two year old. As if sent by divine intervention to aid the girl in her hour of need, a small figure, gloriously bathed in light, slowly entered the room. After he few steps, he halted, turned to the aid-stricken caretaker, and proclaimed…

"Geez, Frankie, turn some lights on in here!" Mac said as he flipped on a couple nearby switches. "I know you don't like laundry duty, but c'mon! It's like you're working in a dungeon here!"

For one of the first times that day, Frankie could feel the beginnings of a small smile take form on her face as she watched the little eight-year-old deposit his mop and bucket nearby.

"I'm all done with the floors, Frankie. They're so clean you could probably serve dinner on them tonight!" he declared with a grin. The girl chuckled at his upbeat attitude and gave the boy an affectionate pat on the head.

"Oh Mac, I'll say it again, you're simply the best! Thank you soooo much! I swear, I would've gone crazy if I had to clean up every hallway floor after this. Then again, if it wasn't for you and Wilt too, they probably would've had to ship me off to the loony bin _months_ ago. Now then, if only SOMEONE was as cooperative as you…" she said with a growl, shooting the still half-unloaded bed sheet a dirty look.

"Stuck sheet?" Mac asked, noticing the evil glare the girl was giving the laundry.

"Yeah." Frankie grumbled as Mac helped her up from her nest in the laundry pile. "I swear, I'll been wrestling with that thing for a good ten minutes now, and it still won't come out. Nuts to what the bunny says, from now on we're putting on smaller loads in the wash. Anyway, can you lend me a hand here?"

Mac nodded, grabbing on to it while Frankie held on from behind. "Okay, now on the count of three, we both pull. Got it? One…two…three! WHOA!"

Mac's extra help did just the trick for the stubborn sheet. With the pair's combined effort, it instantly came loose from the machine with one swift tug. However, once it was freed, Mac immediately let go, leaving Frankie to become caught up in the overwhelming momentum of their duel pull. With a squeal of dismay, the girl tumbled backwards, landing rather ungracefully into a pile of dirty laundry, which just happened to unfortunately consist mainly of socks and imaginary friend undergarments. Once Frankie sat up, a sweaty sock sat draped over one ear like a very peculiar earring, while a pair of underwear hung neatly from her ponytail. The very sight caused Mac to burst out laughing, earning him a very irritated look from Frankie.

"What? What's so fun-EEEWWWW! Oh, sick! Grossgrossgrossgrossgross…" Frankie screamed in disgust, frantically batting off the dirty clothing. Mac only laughed even harder at her utter dismay,while she shot hima very dirty look.

"Hey, stop it! Seriously, This isn't funny!" Frankie snapped as she wiped away one last tube sock. The boy quickly put a sudden halt to his laughter when she got up and stood over him menacingly, arms crossed and face distorted into an angry frown. For a few moments, Mac just stood frozen in fright, unsure of what to do next. Only after a moment of this stern treatment though, Frankie's frown suddenly flipped itself over into a devious grin.

"Now THIS is funny!" In a few lightning fast movements she grabbed Mac and playfully tackled him back onto the laundry pile. Immediately his laughter started up again full swing as Frankie tickled him furiously.

"Aha! Now I gotcha! Tickle tickle tickle!" she laughed, while Mac desperately tried to squirm his way out of her grip.

"Ack! Tee-hee! N-no! Hahaha! F-Frankie, cut it out! Ha ha!" he tried to plead through his incessant giggling.

"Cootchie cootchie coo!" Frankie just replied, redoubling her efforts.

"Heeheehee! Cutitout! Cutitout! Ha ha! B-backup! I need backup! Whoahaha!" Mac yelled.

"Backup? Now what are you-OOMPF!" Frankie grunted as a small blue blur darted into the laundry room, landing square on her back.

"You can't do that to my best friend!" Bloo yelled in a heroic manner as he held on to Frankie's sweater hood and rained down small blows with his little fists. "Now you must pay the price! Prepare for a world of hurt! Take this, evil caretaking fiend! And that! Yeah! Pedal to the medal! Bam! You got nothin'! Pow! I have the power! Take this, and that, and a little more-

While pinning Mac down with one hand, Frankie easily reached around her back, snagged Bloo by the arm, and plopped him unceremoniously besides his creator.

"EEK!" Bloo squealed as Frankie began give him the same Mac was getting. "I take it back! I take it back! Uncle! Uncle!"

"Ha ha! I'm invincible!" Frankie laughed triumphantly as she had both child and friend in her tickly grip. "You really that you could take me on in here, on my home turf?" she joked. "I can take both of you on anytime! No one can stand up to Frances Bridgett Foster in the laundry room!"

"What about us who are taller than you when standing?" Someone asked from behind. Frankie turned around to see an unusually lanky imaginary friend peeking in from the hallway, wearing a ridiculously happy smile plastered on his face.

"Stay away, Wilt! Just because you're twice my height doesn't mean I won't take you down too!" Frankie laughed, never ceasing her efforts on Bloo and Mac, who were both practically screaming with laughter at this point.

"Oh, we'll see about that!" Wilt chuckled, joining in on the fun with as he bounded in.

"You'll never take me aliiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiive!" Frankie squealed as Wilt grabbed her with his good arm, hoisting her up in the air and flipping her upside down. Frankie squeaked in dismay as she quickly reached down (or up in this case) to keep her denim skirt in place while she hung in her precarious position. However, while focusing on this she left her sides completely unguarded, which Bloo and Mac attacked with no mercy.

"She's all yours, guys! Go for it!" Wilt laughed.

"Unfair advantage, YES!" Bloo yelled triumphantly, tickling her ribs relentlessly.

"Ha! Who thinks this is funny now?" snickered Mac as Frankie wriggled helplessly in midair, laughing hysterically.

"AAA! Stoppit! Tee-hee-hee! No fair! No fair! Three on one advantage! Hahahaha! Stoppit, guys! Sto-"

"WHAT IS THE MEANING OF THIS?" someone suddenly yelled through the chaos. In an instant, Bloo and Mac put a halt to their assault on Frankie, while Wilt quickly but gently set her down. Quickly, the four stood at attention to the rather large rabbit that had just entered the room with a very dignified hop. Mr. Herriman eyed the four with a very stern glare, eyeing them like a drill sergeant would his troops.

"Miss Frances and Masters Mac, Wilt, and Blooraguard! I'm quite surprised at all of you! You all know full well that such roughhousing is strictly forbidden!" he reprimanded them vigorously. "And especially you, Miss. Frances! Such behavior from you especially is simply unacceptable! Being house staff, and of course being a house resident since you were but a child, you of all people should be fully aware of the house rules by now! I can't but imagine the atrocious model you're setting for Master Mac at this very instant! Well Miss Frances, what to you have to say yourself?" he demanded sternly.

Despite the harsh rebuking, the still-giddy Frankie was forced to bite down hard on her lip to keep from giggling throughout the entire lecture. Clasping her hands behind her back and blushing a bit, she acted more like a naughty child than the twenty-two year old culprit she actually was.

"Um, heehee…er…laundry's almost done, Mr. H." she managed to say rather sheepishly.

"The floors are all mopped too." Mac chuckled, wiping away the tears from his eyes.

Mr. Herriman continued to glare at them harshly before finally relenting. If there was one thing the stuck-up rabbit couldn't argue against, it was a job well done.

"Right then! I suppose I can't argue against that! But just you remember, I want no more of such fuss out of any of you. Agreed? Excellent! Carry on!" And with that he turned about and hopped briskly from the room, only to poke his head back in after a few moments

"Oh, and Miss Francis, please start preparing for dinner shortly! I'd like it served no later than in an hour, at six o'clock precisely." He reminded. Frankie, who had been hoping for some free time since the mopping was completed, naturally groaned unhappily at this.

However, she wasn't the only when to react unfavorably to this news. The instant he heard the time, all the pallor seemed to drain from Mac's face, as his eyes widened to the size of dinner plates in pure terror.

"It's 5 o'clock already? Oh no!" he gasped in horror. Immediately he began to make his way towards the doors.

"Geez, I'm sorry guys, I'd like to stay longer but I really gotta go!"

"Aw, c'mon man, it's only five! Can't you stay for dinner or something?" Bloo protested unhappily.

"No Bloo, I really gotta go! I, uh, I have, er, homework! Yeah, my teacher gave me a lot of homework tonight! I need to get home now so I can get it all done! Yeah!" Mac babbled as he anxiously backed away.

Frankie gave Mac a look of concern. "Shoot Mac, again? This is like the third time this week. What's up with your teacher lately? It's like overnight she transformed into the schoolwork Nazi or something. Is everything okay?"

"Oh, you know, she just want to keep us busy! Heh heh!" he laughed nervously, still anxiously backing towards the door. Frankie shrugged.

"Well, I guess if you gotta go, you gotta go. Thanks for your help Mac! You did a great job today!"

"Yeah, see ya tomorrow buddy!" yelled Bloo.

"Don't let that homework get the best of you! Good luck!" said Wilt encouragingly.

"See you guys!" Mac called back with a smile, waving vigorously as he left the room hurriedly, sprinting down the many flights of stairs at Fosters and out the front door. Once he exited the gated entrance however, the smile instantly vanished from his face as he slouched over unhappily. With a weary groan he turned to the right, walking oppositely away from his apartment and instead in the direction of downtown.

"Too much schoolwork to do…pfft! Yeah right." He grumbled miserably. "I wish."

* * *

"Gee Bloo, Mac was awfully lucky you and Wilt were nearby." Chuckled Frankie as she scooped the last of the laundry into one of the machines. "I swear, the kid was probably gonna die laughing if I didn't stop. Hee hee! Oh man, that was great!" 

However, Bloo did not find the whole thing as funny as she did.

"Yeah Frankie, um about that whole "coincidence"…" he said nervously, choosing to look at the floor rather than face her.

"Wait, what?" she asked worriedly. This did not look good.

"You see, er, I was already kinda looking for you because…"

"Oh God, don't tell me…" Frankie said wearily, rubbing her temples.

"Do you remember the tapioca incident that uh..."someone" caused last week that you had to...uh...y'know..." he stammered

"Don't say it! Don't say it!" the panicked caretaker began to beg. "If you're going to say what I think you're going to say…"

"Um, ha ha, er, the funny thing is, um… I, wait, I mean, "he" showed up again, and…er…well, you managed to take care of the tapioca so well and… do you think you could to the same thing with _vanilla_ pudding?"

"You…you…you…didn't…" she tried to get the words out, but couldn't as something caught her eye. Frankie's jaw dropped and her eyes bulged in absolute horror as she looked behind the small imaginary friend at the white, goopy mass that was beginning to slowly ooze past the laundry room and down the hallway. By the time she was able to comprehend what had happened, Bloo had long fled the laundry room and was racing as fast as he could to reach refuge in the farthest corners of the house. His breath coming in ragged gasps, the small light-blue friend had already raced up five flights of stairs before the entire house seemed to reverberate with the loudest shriek any Foster's resident had every heard.

"BLOOOOOOOOOOOO!"

* * *

Well, there you have it!The begining is only an introduction and pretty light-hearted, but this is going to get darker and more angsty as it progresses. Please read and review! 


	2. More Than My Friend: Chapter 2

"H-hello?"

Mac peeked down the filthy alley warily. There was no response. All he could see was a dumpster, some old boxes and other scattered pieces of trash. No sign of anyone else. Gripping his backpack straps tightly, he cautiously entered and began to make his way through, glancing about cautiously.

"Please? Anyone? Hello?" Again no response, just the sounds of the rush hour traffic nearby. The boy was starting to become more anxious, his eyes never staying still as they moved about for any movement besides his own. He gulped nervously and tried once more.

"It's Terrance's brother, Mac! I'm here! Please? Any-OOF!" before he could go any further a hand seemingly came out of nowhere, grabbing Mac roughly by his shirt, lifting him up off the ground and pressing him against the wall in one swift movement.

Mac grunted in pain as he was slammed against rough brick wall, coming face-to-face with his assailant. His attacker, a grungy teenaged boy dressed in raggedy clothing, sneered angrily at Mac look through his long and tangled brown hair and then shook the boy roughly.

"You're late." He said with a growl. The little boy gave a hard gulp as he broke out into a nervous sweat.

"Ben, please, I'm only seven mi-AACK!" Mac gasped as Ben wrapped one of his grimy hands around the boy's neck, cutting him off.

"Listen you little shit, you know the rules!" the dirty teen snarled. "When you come here, you come at the goddamn time we tell you to come here, got it? Dammit, you know I can't afford to hang around here too long, I could get caught! And if anything happens, you know who's gonna get the blame for it, right?" he said with a malicious smirk.

Mac, his face beginning to turn a fine shade of purple, managed to nod weakly. With that, Ben released his grip and let the eight-year old tumble to the pavement, gasping for breath. However, Mac barely got much of a respite before he felt the sharp pain of Ben kicking him roughly in the side.

"Hurry up man, what's your problem today? You know the drill!" the dirty teen yelled impatiently, eyes constantly darting about nervously.

Still desperately trying to catch his breath, Mac quickly opened his backpack, taking out a wad of crumbled bills. Ben quickly snatched these from Mac's hand, stuffing them into one pocket of his ragged cargo pants while removing something from another pocket.

"Okay, that looks like enough, here you go, Mac." He grunted, roughly handing the boy a plastic bag filled with pure, grade-A marijuana. Mac shuddered involuntarily as he accepted the bag and quickly stuffed it into his backpack. Even after all the times he had done it before, he still never liked handling any of the goods. It just all felt so terribly wrong.

By the time he had finished zipping up, Ben had already disappeared. Typical of course. Never wanting to be caught, he always disappeared the moment the sale was complete, leaving Mac all alone in case they were ever spotted. It was all routine, of course. Nothing special, nothing that the kid could really do anything about. Rubbing a sore neck, Mac limped off in the direction of home.

While he entered his apartment building, Mac noticed that his mother's car was not in its usual space in the parking lot, meaning that she was working late again.

_Crap._ He thought disappointedly. _It's just him and me. Oh God, here we go again._

Mac sighed painfully as he made the final march to his family's modest apartment. However, he barely had set his fingers on the doorknob when the door swung open from the inside. Mac suddenly found himself grabbed roughly by his shirt again and dragged inside, while the door was closed again with a slam. Instantly Mac felt someone rip off his backpack while he was unceremoniously tossed aside, hitting the floor with a thump.

Terrance, Mac's mangy older brother for all the world resembled the missing link, dug furiously through his brother's backpack. For a few moments schoolbooks and paper rained through the air until the dirty teenager found what he was looking for.

"Aha! Here we go!" he cried triumphantly, pulling out the bag of weed, which he promptly opened to smell for a quick quality check.

"Aw yeah, Ben my man, you've done it again!" he hooted loudly in celebration. "Now that's the stuff! Heh heh!"

Meanwhile, while the momentary festivities went on, Mac was quickly crawling apart on the floor, trying to gather his things together and hoping desperately to remain unnoticed. _If I'm lucky," _he thought, _then Terrance will go straight to his room, and I'll be okay for the night._

Today was not his lucky day. Just as he was zipping up his bag, Mac's world suddenly exploded into pain as he suddenly received a massive kick square in the stomach. With a squeal of agony he tumbled over onto his back, from where he was immediately grabbed by the shirt and for the second time that day found himself shoved against the wall like some bizarre decoration. Mac flinched involuntarily, as Terrance looked him square in the eye.

"I got a phone call a few minutes ago." He scowled, sounding very disappointed. "Ben says you were late."

"No, Terrance, please!" Mac pleaded desperately, knowing what was to come. "I-I just lost track of the time, that's all! P-please! You got your stuff! L-l-leave me alone!" he stuttered out.

"You know the goddamn rules!" Terrance bellowed, shaking Mac roughly. "Why are you still getting' it wrong? It's so fucking simple! Ben gets the pot, I give you the money for the pot, we tell you where to go for the pot, you meet Ben to get the pot, you get the pot and bring it right back to me. What the hell, Mac?"

"Terrance, please no! I-it was just a mistake!" N-no! NO!" Mac cried as a malicious look appeared in his older brother's eyes. _Oh God, here it comes._

"You know the penalty for tardiness. Remember, little bro?" he said with an evil grin. Tear welled up in Mac's eyes.

"Please…don't…not again…"

"Now, as I recall, Ben says you were seven minutes late, sooooo…one!" Terrance yelled, slapping Mac across the face.

"OW! Please, I'll do better, I promise!" Mac sobbed.

"Two!" Terrance went on, punching him in the shoulder. The sick countdown continued to go on, with every number equaling another punch, slap, or kick for Mac, until finally…

"Seven!" Terrance bellowed, ending off with a well-aimed punch straight into Mac's stomach. With that he carelessly dropped his younger brother to the floor in a sobbing bundle.

"See, little bro? Now that wasn't so bad, was it?" Terrance said mockingly. Mac was unable to respond, lying face down and doubled up in pain. His older brother let out a cruel laugh, bending down to speak to Mac face to face.

"And remember buddy, rule number one, buddy, we don't tell anyone about any of this, got it? Not Mom, not anyone at school, not anyone of those weirdos at that freak show house, no one! Because if you do, then I'll get unhappy. And then Ben will be unhappy, all our friends will be unhappy, and you'll be-"

"Dead meat." Mac finished in a whisper. He remembered the stupid line.

"Good boy." Terrence laughed, sauntering off to his room and leaving Mac on the living room floor. With the slam of a door, all become quiet in the apartment again, only periodically broken by a little boy's pained sobs.

* * *

It was ten o'clock at night, Although he had gone to bed an hour ago, Mac was still unable to fall asleep. He rolled over with a wince, still feeling the effects from his earlier encounter with Terrence, their "talks" as the older brother liked to refer to them. Mac groaned involuntarily in pain as he accidentally rolled onto a sore shoulder, quickly moving back to his original position. 

He thought things had been bad before, when his brother was nothing but a hulking moron who enjoyed beating up him up occasionally for fun. Unfortunately, in the last few weeks, the complete unthinkable had finally occurred. Now, Terrence was a massively stoned hulking moron who enjoyed beating him up every day for fun. At first, when Mac learned about his brother's new habit, he was actually a little glad. He hoped that now his brother had become a pothead, he would now be too busy getting high to pick on Mac whenever he pleased. And things actually were that way for a bit, and in all actuality it was pretty good. Terrence would slink off somewhere to become stoned out of his mind while Mac was left unmolested to spend more time at Foster's. Of course, Mac reminded himself with a heavy sigh, things were _never_ that easy with Terrence.

At first, Terrence himself had to go down and meet with Ben to get his pot, as his paranoid dealer friend a stickler for always wanting to do business in a secluded area but still not too far away from his own home. However though, about three weeks ago realized that he didn't need to buy his drugs himself and run the risk of getting caught. Why do that when he can have his little goody-two-shoes brother go out and retrieve his weed for him? Of course, some "rules" had to be set down to make sure certain little brothers didn't blab out his secret to anyone. Also of course, these were followed by the "appropriate punishments" for the disobedience of any of those "rules."

That was basically the way things were. Since then, much of Mac's life was now occupied by the same, sick routine. Once, twice, maybe three times a week, Terrence would hand him some money (where he got it from Mac refused to find out) and give him a time. Mac would then go to the same, filthy alley, where if he didn't break any of the "rules," then he and the always overly-apprehensive dealer would make a relatively smooth transaction. Then, the boy would come home, his brother would take the weed off of him instantly, slither off to his room, and a few days later the whole thing would start up again. Of course, even if he didn't cause any trouble, the teens always gave Mac his usual share of punches and kicks, mainly just for the hell of it.

That was they way things were now. And the awful truth was, he couldn't do a single thing about it. What was there that could be done? Go to Mom? No way. He knew full well that she had more than enough to do, working full time as a single parent to support her family and make ends meet. Besides, she was at work most of the time, she was never at home enough to deal with or even realize what was going on in her children's lives. Heck, she was even to tired tonight to realize that Terrence had come to dinner high as a cloud. Could he tell anyone? His teachers? Bloo? Madame Foster? Forget about it.

From time and time again, he was reminded rather painfully what would happen if he tried to tell anyone what was going on. The bitter truth of what would happen to him was literally beaten into him almost every day. If he turned Ben in, Terrence would beat him to a bloody pulp. If he turned Terrence in, Ben would beat him to a bloody pulp. Even if managed to somehow turn both of them in, there were plenty other "friends" out there, of whom Mac did not know at all but was absolutely sure they all knew who he was. It wouldn't matter if he got Terrence and his dealer friend busted, there was always the threat of those three or four other friends of Terrence out there involved in this whole little drug ring. Just a bunch of guys Mac had know idea who they were, but they would still probably hunt him down like an animal and wouldn't think twice about torturing an eight-year-old kid. How do you turn in people you've never even seen before?

Simple. You don't.

_This is it. _Mac realized somberly to himself. _I'm trapped._


	3. More Than My Friend: Chapter 3

Thanks for all the reviews, guys!

Apologies to Divine-Red-Crayon and azuretears though. I originally planned on responding to you guys in the beginning of chapter two, but by the time I remembered to do that, I had just uploaded chapter two, and school was beginning the next day (it was 11:00 at night, so I was up too late as it was.) My Bad! Anyway, I'm not going to make the same mistake again. Here goes:

Divine-Red-Crayon, yoyo, and SpotlessLadyBug: Thank you so much for your encouragement! I promise, there's plenty more story to come!

azuretears: Thank you especially for everything! Namely, for making me realize that my summary was WAY too long and that I had completely forgotten to respond to my reviewers. Sorry, first time with a story! Thank you for all the pointers!

Okay then, I hope that'll make up for my tardiness! Thanks again for all your support, everyone! Now, on with the story!

* * *

Mac peeked out nervously from the alley, looking up and down the street. No one on the sidewalk, and the streets were clear except for a couple cars who didn't seem to notice an eight-year-old boy wandering about downtown.

With a sigh of utter relief Mac crept out into the open and began to make his way back in the direction of home.

"So far, so good." He whispered to himself. Of course, he remembered, there wasn't too much to worry about. Well, besides the fact that he was being used as a pawn in his older brother's quest for more drugs, at the moment things were working out pretty well. Of course, these Saturday morning runs were always the easiest. His Mom was usually gone by seven-thirty, which meant that Mac could meet Ben in the alley by eight. When the sale was done, then Mac could come home, slip it into Terrence's room (where the dumb ape would still be asleep until noon) and then he would be free to spend his day at Foster's without any worry at all. Plus, of course, this early in the morning there was always the greatly reduced chance of being caught by anyone-

_BEEP! BEEP!_

At the sound of the car horn blaring directly behind him, Mac almost leapt three feet in the air with a horrified scream of surprise. Immediately he whirled about, his arms raised high above his head.

"AAAAAA! I didn't do anything! I didn-" he stopped in mid-sentence when he realized he wasn't facing a police cruiser. In reality, the small, flamboyantly colored bus that pulled up next to him on the curb was probably the _last _thing he had been expecting at all. As Mac gasped in relief, the doors of the Foster's bus opened to reveal a very concerned redheaded young woman.

"Mac?" Frankie asked, cocking her head. "Jeez, what are _you _doing out here this early?"

"Frankie! Uh, um, you see, I, uh, I had to go, and, uh, and…" Mac struggled to find a somewhat believable excuse.

"Ohhhhhhh. _Now_ I see." Frankie replied with a smirk. "It's pretty clear what happened _here._" she said, almost accusingly.  
Mac gave a hard gulp. It was all over now…

"Morning errands suck, don't they?" Frankie laughed, pointing to the back of the bus, where at least twenty grocery bags lined the seats. "What'd you have to get for your Mom? Loaf of bread? Quart of milk? Lucky, wish I was you. I woke up half an hour ago and found that there had absolutely NO cereal left in the house. You should've been there to see the look on the Bunny's face thought. Ha, I thought Mr. Anal-Compulsive was getting to wet himself right there in the kitchen!" she chuckled, Mac forcing himself to join along with a nervous snicker. Frankie smiled warmly and motioned him to climb aboard.

"Well, don't just stand there! Hop on, I'll take you over to the house."

"Gee, thanks Frankie!" Mac replied gratefully, ascending the bus stairs. "Thank y-wait! Wait! No!"

"No what?" Frankie shot him a quizzical look as she stepped on the gas.

"Frankie, wait! You gotta turn the bus around, I need to drop something off at home!" Mac pleaded. Being late to pick up the goods from Ben was bad enough, but Mac knew very well that if he failed to drop off the goods at home on time, the repercussions for that particular violation would be _ten times_ worse. As he broke out into a panicked sweat, Frankie began to feel a little unnerved by the eight-year-old's frantic behavior.

"Why, what is it? Did you pick up something that needs to be stored in the fridge?"

"Please, Frankie, I just want-"

"What's the rush? I thought your Mom is at work by now."

"Yeah, she is. Wait, no, I mean no! No, hold on, I mean-" Mac spouted incoherently, rapidly loosing his wits.

"Why can't you just take it with you?" Frankie asked as if it was no big deal. "I can stick it in the fridge when we get back to Fos-"

"Frankie, I really need you to just-"

"No, it'll be fine. I'll even take a sticky note and mark it for you so-"

"FRANKIE I JUST WANT TO DROP IT OFF AT HOME!" Mac involuntarily shrieked.

For a few seconds, both boy and girl just stared at each other, equally shocked by the outburst. Finally, Frankie shrugged her shoulders as she relented, still eyeing Mac a bit warily as he took a seat.

"Fine, fine. If it means that much to you, I'll stop by your apartment. But still…"

* * *

"Hey Frankie, do you want me to set these all out on the table?" Wilt asked, pointing to a bunch of unload cereal boxes still in their brown grocery bags. Frankie shook her head.

"Nah, I think we have enough set out for everyone. Just set those in the pantry for now."

"Okay then!" Wilt answered cheerily, picking up the bags and carting them off, whistling happily. Frankie however, always one to be uplifted when Wilt was around, did not share in on her friend's usually infectious joyful mood today. She chewed her lip anxiously as she unloaded some eggs into the fridge, mentally going over the facts of a rapidly growing problem.

Something was wrong with Mac. But even worse, Frankie realized unhappily, this wasn't something new to her, not at all. Always the observant one, she had been noticing an obvious change that had been taking place in Foster's favorite eight-year-old for a few _weeks_ now.

When he first began showing signs of odd behavior, Frankie had just brushed it off as maybe a little problem at home or school that probably wasn't her business and would blow over in a few days or so. However, as those "few days" stretched out into a couple days, and then finally into weeks with still no sign of recovery in sight, she realized she had been wrong, very wrong with that assumption. Mac was not improving, and if anything, after that whole episode downtown that morning, his plight was only growing at a pace the girl could barely comprehend. All the signs were pointing to the same fact: whatever this thing was, it was something she couldn't ignore anymore.

First of all, Mac was now always leaving the house early once or twice a week, always attributing it to an overload of "homework." That of course was the biggest lie Frankie had ever heard in her life. Why in the world would he getting that much homework in elementary school, of all places? She didn't even get that work until she was in the seventh grade! Why would they put that much stress on an eight-year-old? No elementary school teacher could possibly be that cruel. It was obvious that every time Mac brought up that homework excuse, he was using it as a lame cover-up for something else. But what?

Whatever it was, it didn't seem good. Frankie deduced this from the peculiar change in behavior that she noticed had taken place in Mac over the past weeks. Where was that happy brown-haired little bundle of joy and enthusiasm who always showed up with a grin at three o'clock every afternoon? Mac seemed to have unexpectedly developed an extreme case of paranoia overnight. He was now jumpy and nervous all the time, constantly checking his watch, always acting like someone was going to leap out and attack him. Now, whenever Mac acted like...well, Mac, those occurrences were now extremely rare if anything. What was wrong? The poor little guy wasn't even able to handle that friendly honk she gave him that morning, she could've sworn Mac would've leapt clear out of his skin if he could.

Speaking of that, just what in the world _was_ he doing downtown anyway that early in the morning?

"Stupid, stupid, stupid." Frankie grumbled as she smacked herself angrily on the forehead. Why the hell did she think he was making a run to the grocery store? She saw him dart out of the alleyway near the pharmacy, which was at least _five blocks_ opposite of the supermarket! Just what was really going on there? It was all too clear he wasn't there to pick up a prescription. Something ugly was going on.

_Scratch that_, she realized with a groan. Something _definitely_ very ugly that was going on, Frankie thought as she contemplated the fourth and most unpleasant piece of evidence. Whatever was happening to Mac, foul play was definitely playing a major role in it.

During the past few weeks, Mac had definitely been showing up everyday with more than the usual amount of bumps, cuts and bruises. Now, Frankie of course knew very well what a jerk his oafish older brother Terrence was to him. But was it really just the usually bullying gone overboard? No, it couldn't be. She knew he liked to pick on Mac, but could he really be that diabolical? And why the sudden increase then in harassment lately?

Already she had tried to pry out of Mac what was going on, but whenever she tried to inquire, she never got very much of a response. Actually, whenever she asked about a new cut or bruise, he would immediately always attribute it to some game of soccer that got out of hand, or a basketball match out back that went a bit awry. Was it really just the result of a little roughhousing with friends?

"Wilt?" she asked hopefully.

"Yeah, what it is Frankie?" the lanky imaginary friend answered as he loaded some more groceries onto a rather tall shelf.

"Um…have you guys been playing a little more, uh…roughly than usual? You know, you, Ed, Coco, Bloo…Mac?" she asked, hoping for the best.

"Sorry, not that I know of. We always keep it pretty safe."

"Really. Um, no one getting...hurt or anything?"

"Nope." Wilt answered with a smile and a thumbs-up. "Nothing but good, clean fun! Why do you ask?"

Well, so much for that option. "Oh, nothing." Frankie replied, a little crushed

That was it. There was no point in denying the blaring obvious truth. Mac was in trouble, and whatever it was, it was definitely serious. But what was it? That was Frankie's next big dilemma. Whatever it was, the little guy was obviously refusing to tell anyone about it. Not Wilt, Ed, Coco, probably not his overworked Mom, not even his best friend, Bloo. How awful of a situation did you have to be in where you couldn't even tell anyone the blatantly obvious?

_Well, not matter what's going on, he's not hiding it from me any longer!_ Frankie mentally resolved to herself. There was absolutely no way that she was going to let Mac practically sink to the ninth level of hell in front of her own eyes and not do a thing about it. If he didn't want to tell anyone about it, then she would have to make him tell her about it. It probably wasn't going to be easy, but what choice did she really have?

She couldn't just stand aside and let her friend destroy himself like this, right in front of everyone. No, not Mac. Not her friend. What would she do without him? Not her special little guy, he was almost like a...a...little...

What was the word she was looking for?

" Miss. Frances! Miss Frances!" Mr. Herriman's voice on the house intercom sharply interrupted Frankie's dramatic resolution. She cursed mentally and slammed her fist down on the counter.

"WHAT?" she yelled back irritably.

"Miss Frances, we have a situation that requires your urgent and immediate attention!"

"Aw c'mon! I'm in the middle of something important here!" Frankie protested.

"Miss Frances, please, the situation is dire! The third level hallway has become saturated from floor to ceiling with, um, well, what appears to be a gooey substance of a somewhat... well, chocolate-like flavor…"

"WHAT?" Frankie screeched, barely able to realize the words that reached her ears. "Oh no...oh no! No! No! Not again! No! No no no no no! NOOOOOOOOO!" she wailed, grabbing a mop from the nearby utility closet and rushing up the stairs.

"Wilt! I need five buckets of hot water, third floor, stat! Get Ed to block off the hallway! AND BLOO! YOU BETTER PRAY TO GOD I DON'T GET MY HANDS ON YOU! IF I CATCH YOU, I SWEAR I WILL STICK YOU ON A ROASTING SPIT AND SERVE YOU FOR DINNER TONIGHT! YOU HEAR ME? BLOOOOOOOOOOO!"

* * *

Mac shuddered violently as he went over the day's events. That was definitely way too close for comfort. And by the looks of things, he wasn't out of the clear yet. Frankie was definitely on to him. Mac knew that she was beginning to see through it all. The going home to do homework bit, all his excuses for his cuts and bruises, she definitely wasn't buying any of that. What was with her lately? It was like someone hired her to act as his own private interrogator. She asked him about every bump, every scratch, why he was leaving every time he went for the door, Christ! Couldn't she just leave him alone? No one could know! The results would_ literally_ be disastrous for him. However, it wasn't going to stay that way if Frankie kept bombarding him with questions every time he showed up at Foster's. Why did she always have to stick her nose into his business?

That outbreak that morning was a close call. Mac knew that he couldn't let that happen again, he couldn't let Frankie get to him like that. God knows he was practically at breaking point already, he couldn't keep up the twisted game of charades for much longer. He was lucky today, though. Shortly after they got back to Foster's, Bloo's third attempt at trying to create an "indoor pudding pool" had become the largest pudding-related disaster Foster's Home for Imaginary Friends had ever seen. This meant of course that Frankie had no time today for any question-and-answer sessions as her job required her to tend to the catastrophe immediately. Even as he had left the house a few minutes ago, she was still unsuccessfully battling the chocolaty mess upstairs as far as he knew.

"Hello? Anyone? I'm home!" Mac announced as he entered the apartment. No answer. His mom must still be at work, which was usual.

Wait, but in that case, then where was Terr-

Before he knew it, once found again found himself in an all-too familiar position. Pressed hard against the living-room wall, Mac came face to face with a furious-looking Terrence.

"What the fuck, Mac?" he yelled angrily. "_What_…_the_…_hell_…_happened_…_today_?" he demanded, shaking Mac violently to emphasize every word.

"What? I didn't do anything! Everything was fine! You got your stuff! You got your stuff!" Mac cried, trying to wriggle out of his brother's firm grasp.

"Lyin' little son of a bitch!" Terrence roared, smacking the boy hard against the wall.

"That's not what Ben told me. What did you tell her?" he demanded angrily.

"Tell who what? Please, I didn't tell anyone anyt-OW!" Mac cried as Terrence struck him hard against his face.

"Don't screw with me, asshole! Ben told me everything that happened this morning. He told me that right after you got the weed, he saw you get on the bus from that goddamn freak house!" he accused, giving Mac another hard slap to the face. "You told her, didn't you! The redheaded chick? Squealer! Why I oughta…"

"Please Terrence no! FRANKIE DOESN'T KNOW ANYTHING!" Mac screamed before going silent, eyes wide open in dumb terror. Terrence continued to glare at his horrified little brother for a few more seconds, until finally his crooked, misshapen teeth broke out into an ugly smile.

"Good boy, I knew you wouldn't let me down." He said with a grunting laugh. He loosened his hold on Mac's shirt, causing the boy to tumble to the floor with a loud thump. As Mac tried to cover up the beginnings of a nosebleed, Terrence knelt down and roughly shoved a small bag into Mac's lap.

"All right little dude, listen up! Ben's gonna get in a big shipment in a day or two, some real high-class stuff. When Mom's working late Monday, I'm gonna have some friends over so we can try it out. That is, after you pick it up for us, of course." He said with a cruel snigger. "Now, there's like a hundred bucks in there, and we all chipped in for this. This is a big pick up, so don't fuck this one up, okay?"

Mac could only nod, trying to clot the blood that now streamed furiously from his nose.

"Oh yeah, one more thing." Terrence added with an evil grin. "Just a reminder, if you think you ever _can_ tell anyone about this, especially anyone at that stupid house…" the teen cracked his knuckles loudly.

Mac could only sob once in horror as his brother advanced upon him.

* * *

Well, there we go! Tell me what you think! 


	4. More Than My Friend: Chapter 4

Hey guys! Thank you so much for all the reviews! I'd like to thank Kelt and sweethart772002. Also sweethart772002, I'd also like to tell you that I've seen your work on deviantart and I must say your artwork is excellent! Keep up the good work!

Also, just to let everyone know, I am fully aware that I have a HUGE run of run-on words and other errors inthe begining of chapter 3. Blech. Don't worry, I'm triple-checking every chapter now before I upload it (although I always miss a few)

Thanks anyway, everyone! On with the story!

* * *

DING DONG!

"I'm coming!"

"DING DONG!"

"I'm coming, I'm coming!"

DING DONG! DING DONG!

"Hold your horses, will ya?" Frankie grumbled, making her way hurriedly down the main staircase and towards the door. "Crap, you would have thought Grandma would've put in an elevator by now or somethin-oh!" she cried, startled at finding Mac waiting patiently at outside.

"Oh geez, I'm sorry pal! I wasn't expecting you! Wait, no, you always come at this time, so…I... guess…I…you…argh!" Frankie gave a frustrated groan as she slammed the door.

"Um, rough day?" Mac asked, trying to keep conversation light. Frankie rubbed her temples, sighing heavily.

"Tell me about it! I must've showered four times, and I still can't get the smell of chocolate off of me! God, I was mopping the stuff up for the rest of Saturday until 7:00 at night. Then of course, I spent practically all of yesterday getting rid of all the stuff that dried with a friggin' paint scraper! Oooooh, the friend of yours Mac! How does he manage to pull off the same stunts every day?" she sighed exasperatedly.

"Well, yesterday all he needed was some chocolate pudding-"

"But that's the thing!" Frankie protested, waving her arms wildly for dramatic effect. "We didn't _have_ any chocolate pudding in the house to begin with! In fact, we haven't had any kind of pudding at all in weeks! Now how does that work out with the fact that for the third time in the last six days one of the hallways has become absolutely become coated in the stuff? I mean, my God!" she ranted.

"Well, I'm sure Bloo's sorry…" Mac said softly. Frankie gave him a wan smile and chuckled.

"Yeah, or at least he will be when he finds out what I really did when I went and "made the beds" in his room." She gave Mac a wink as she removed a paddleball from her sweater pocket. "Either he apologizes, or a certain Mr. Paddleball is going to become very good friends with Mr. Saw out in the tool shed, if you know what I mean."

Mac laughed. "Yeah, that'll definitely do the trick. Well, I guess I better go see how he's holding up. Bye Frankie!"

However, rather than respond with a friendly good-bye of her own, Frankie merely took one step sideways, blocking Mac's path. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes. Well, here they were, together and alone. It was either now or never.

Mac began to grow apprehensive. "Uh, Frankie? Could you kinda move a bit? I kind of gotta go see Bloo." he chuckled nervously

"Not until you and me have a talk." Frankie replied flatly.

Mac suddenly realized by the serious look on her face that she wasn't joking around any more.

_What in the world is she doing?_ he thought worriedly. _Oh God, no! If she's found out, Terrence would..._

"Talk? Talk about what? There's nothing to talk about!" he said defensively. "I'm just fine! Everything's okay-"

Frankie shook her head sadly, slowly getting down on one knee until she was at his height.

"Mac, please. I've been watching you a lot lately. Something's going on, I know. Just calm down, and tell me-"

"Frankie, nothing's wrong!" Mac snapped, slowly backing off. "Please, I just want to go upstairs-"

"Mac, it's okay! I just want-" Frankie stopped as soon as she noticed the peculiar way the boy was moving as he tried to slink off. With every step he took backwards, one leg wobbled unnaturally.

"What's that?" she demanded, jabbing her finger at the anomaly.

"Nothing!" Mac replied hastily.

"You're limping."

"No, no I'm not!"

"Mac, for God's sake, you can barely stand on that thing!" Frankie cried out in horror.

"No, it's okay, see? I'm just fin-HEY!" he protested loudly as Frankie descended upon him in one swoop. Immediately the panicked Mac began to wrestle desperately from her grip, yelling loudly in protest.

"No, Frankie, no! I'm fine! I'm fine! Please, let go! I'm okay, just put me down! Frankie!"

"Aha!" Frankie cried triumphantly, pulling up a pant leg to reveal a massive black and blue bruise. However, she only got to see it for a second before Mac freed himself with one last desperate tug, squirming from the girl's arms and back to the floor.

"Just fine my ass! What was that? What was _that_?" Frankie inquired, pointing accusingly at Mac.

"Accident." He replied lamely, choosing to look down at the floor rather than make eye contact.

"Oh yeah?" said Frankie, raising an eyebrow. "Really? What kind of accident?"

"Um, er, Wilt and I, we were playing basketball outside yesterday, and he-"

"Mac." Frankie interrupted. "At this very moment, Wilt is up in the bathroom right now. And you know why? Because he still hasn't cleaned all the pudding that got in his fur when he was helping me clean it up most of Saturday and ALL of Sunday."

"No wait, Frankie, uh, I just remembered!" Mac sputtered. "Uh, it wasn't with Wilt, me and Ed-"

"Mac, will you knock it off already? Please, you don't need to lie to me!"

"I wasn't lying!" Mac protested angrily, tears welling up in his eyes.

"Mac, c'mon pal! It's me! You can tell me what's going on!"

"Frankie, no! I said it before, nothing's wrong!"

"Is it Terrence? What's he done? What's Terrence been doing to you?"

"NO! He hasn't done anything, Frankie will you just-"

"What did he tell you? Did he threaten you?"

"Will you please just-"

"Is it someone else? Is Terrence working with someone else on this?"

"Frankie, I-"

"It's going to be okay, if you'll just-"

Frankie's constant barrage of questions was just too much. Mac, who had already been on the edge for days, just couldn't take it anymore. He just couldn't suppress the frenzy of emotions that raged about inside him much longer; the anger he felt at Terrence and his lousy friends. The fury he felt at being used constantly as a tool. The pure vehemence he felt at it all just because he felt so utterly helpless to do anything about any of what was happening. And, once the irritation he felt at Frankie right now was added to the mix, it was just too much for him to hold down any longer. Mac just couldn't withstand the pressure anymore, he...he...

Mac cracked. It was just too much. Suddenly the little boy erupted full blast, a deadly mixture of rage and frustration spewing forth, ready to engulf anyone in its path. And there was only one other person present it could be directed upon...

"SHUT THE FUCK UP, FRANKIE!" he screamed at the top of his lungs. Instantly Frankie went silent, almost shocked beyond the ability to speak.

"Wha-what?" she replied, stunned.

"You heard me!" Mac continued to yell, hot tears of rage streaming down his face. "Shut up, just shut up Frankie! What the hell is your problem? Why do you have to make it your business to stick your damn nose in my life whenever you feel like it? Just who the hell do you think you are? Why do you have to treat me like a baby all the time? News flash, Frankie; YOU'RE NOT MY MOM! You're a twenty-two year old with a crappy job you got just because your grandmother runs this place! Why is my life suddenly your business? I can do things on my own! I don't need some redheaded weirdo barging into my life whenever she feels like it! I can take care of myself! You don't have to excuse yourself from your duties as a maid to baby-sit me!"

"What are you…why…a maid?" Frankie managed to say. Mac went on with the verbal lashing, unable to contain the pent-up frustration that he took out on the only available target.

"Yeah, that's right, I said it! You're nothing but a stupid maid! Four years in college, and that's all you do! And I don't need someone who doesn't know anything else except what's for dinner tonight or when the wash is done pushing me around and telling me what to do! Just go back to the kitchen, or the laundry room, or whatever! JUST STAY THE HELL OUT OF MY LIFE!" Mac screeched, finally ending with a hoarse sob.

For a few moments, all Frankie could do was stand stock still, as if the outburst had completely petrified her. Slowly however, her face began to distort from a look of shock to one of ugly rage and betrayal. Lifting an accusing finger, shaking with anger, she finally regained her ability to speak, which she immediately used to let lose her own full fury.

"So…that's it? THAT'S IT? FINE! Why the hell am I wasting my time with you, anyway? I have a job, I have important things to do, I have my own life to live! Why am I spending it in your crappy childish fantasy world? So I can get some half-assed help with mopping the damn floors? Well, guess what, I don't need you either! I'm a grown young woman, what the fuck do I want with an eight-year old kid? You know what, what do I care about you? You're just some snobby little brat who shows up every day just because your mommy won't let you have your stupid imaginary friend anymore. So just go, where I just don't give a horse's ass! Go off, go play your games of make-believe, go get your butt kicked by your older brother! I just don't give a damn! Keep your goddamn life, just KEEP ME OUT OF IT!" Frankie screamed as she unsuccessfully tried to fight back the tears that pooled up in her own eyes.

"That's it, I'm outta here!" Mac yelled, grabbing his bag and marching out the door. "Oh, and don't get trapped your stupid pony-tail trapped in the washing machine, jerk!" he cried, before running off. Frankie furiously raced to the door, calling out after him.

"Ha ha, very funny! Well you know what? That mopping job you did for me? Well, it totally SUCKED!"

And with that, she angrily slammed the door, closing it so hard it almost flew right off it's hinges. With a whimper Frankie covered her eyes and sank to the floor.

_What the hell? What the hell just happened?_ she thought bewilderedly. _All I wanted to do was help him out, and he just blew up on me! Why...why did..._

As she remembered all the hateful things Mac said earlier, her tears of sadness quickly transformed to tears of pure rage.

_Maid...just a maid! Why that little...fine! Fine! If that little punk wants to do whatever the hell he wants, then fine! What do I care, anyway? I was right to tell him off! Why do I even let him hang around me? I don't need him! I don't-_

Suddenly, another door flew open nearby as Mr. Herriman hopped out from his office, looking extremely flustered.

"Miss Francis, what on earth is the meaning of all this racket? You know precisely well that-"

"WHAT THE HELL DO YOU WANT?" Frankie demanded with a shriek.

"Aaaa! Carry on!" the oversized rabbit said in fright, quickly whirling about and retreating back through his office doors. Once he was gone, Frankie buried her face in her hands and silently wept.

* * *

Quite possibly the angriest chapter I've written yet.

There's plenty more storyfrom where that came from!


	5. More Than My Friend: Chapter 5

Here we go again! You know the drill, please read and review!

* * *

Mac sat fuming angrily behind a tree in the park in a blind rage. Stupid Frankie. What did she know? Trying to baby him the second he walked through the front door of Foster's, always trying to pry into his business when he could, especially the stuff he wanted to keep secret the most. Dammit, didn't she ever know when to stop? 

Mac was tired of it all. Tired of being told what to do. Tired of being pushed around by everyone bigger and older than he was. It was bad enough with Terrence and Ben making his life a living hell almost every day. But now, after Frankie's constant intrusions culminating with what had happened a few hours ago, Mac felt like he had just been pushed over the edge completely. Was this it? Was this the way things were going to be? Was he just going to let every jerk boss him around and tell him what to do, every single day?

No.

Mac's little fists almost turned white he clenched them so tightly in blind fury. Not any more. This was it. He felt as if he had been pushed completely to his limit. At that very moment didn't care about all the threats, all the warning beatings, everything. He just couldn't take it anymore. Mac was just to angry, just so angry at everything right now he just didn't care. Enough was enough. With a look of furious determination the little boy stood up and started racing off downtown, pumping his legs furiously. This was it.

He'd show Frankie who could take care of who. He'd show Terrence who he really was. He'd show them. He'd show them all.

* * *

Ben glanced about as he restlessly paced up and down the alley. God, where was that kid? He knew better than that to show up late, especially when a big shipment came in! T

The grungy teen suddenly gasped in fright and threw himself against the wall as he heard the wail of a nearby police siren. Much to his relief though, the noise quickly faded away, meaning the car had passed on by. Well, so far so good. Still, he was becoming more and more anxious with every passing second. Clenching his teeth and cracking his knuckles, Ben decided that if the kid wasn't showing up soon, then it would probably be time for another little "talk" to remind him how things worked around here.

Suddenly, he heard footsteps nearby. The paranoid dealer looked up in shock, ready to make a run for it. However, much to his relief he quickly recognized the small figure making his way down the alley.

"Christ Mac, what the hell took you so long? God damn, you know what happens when you show up late?" he growled angrily, shaking his fist. "You little punk! Did you know what I oughta do to you?"

Mac said nothing. Eyes narrowed, he stared back boldly, completely unintimidated.

_Jesus, that's weird. _Ben thought. Usually during the transactions, the kid always acted like he was about to wet himself in panic. What was his deal?

No, no time for that. Normally, he wouldn't taken this chance to smack the leaving snot out of the boy, but Ben had already been waiting too long. He just wanted to make the sale and get the hell out of there. He'd enforce the "rules" next time.

"Okay Mac, let's just do this. Here's the stuff, just take it and give me-"

"No." Mac interrupted flatly. Ben looked up at him in shock. "What?"

"You heard me." Mac said again in the same flat tone.

Ben gritted his teeth angrily. He just wanted to leave. NOW. "Dammit Mac, I got no time for games! Just take the stuff!" he grunted, shoving a large bag of pot into Mac's hands. While the dealer waited impatiently, Mac just coolly looked over the sack in his hands, as if he had just forgotten what to do next. Ben was rapidly losing his patience.

"C'mon, let's go! Let's go! You know what happens next! Just hand over the-"

Before he could finish the sentence, Mac suddenly ripped the bag open with a savage tearing movement. Before the stunned teen could react in any way, the kid quickly hopped onto a discarded crate and dumped the bag's contents into the nearby dumpster, all the time with a look of furious determination on his face. By the time Ben was able to contemplate what was going on, the entire bag had been completely emptied.

"Mac…WHAT THE HELL?" he cried in dismay. Mac looked him square in the eyes as he tossed the empty bag.

"Go find yourself someone else to deliver your damn drugs. I quit." Mac replied furiously. And with that the boy turned around and made his way out of the alley.

Or at least that's Mac wanted to. Unfortunately ,plans never work out they way you want them to, especially ones that are thought up of in a second in the midst of a blind fury. He only took two steps before he was savagely tackled onto the pavement. With an angry yell, Ben picked up Mac and tossed him head first into a bunch of garbage cans.

As soon as his head hit the metal cans, all of his blind rage vanished in an instant as he fully realized what he had actuality just done. However, before he could bemoan the fact that he didn't pay more attention to his common sense, Ben snatched the boy by his shirt collar and lifted him up so the were face-to-face.

"YOU ASSHOLE!" Do you have any clue how much pot you just trashed? Jesus, what the hell is the matter with you?"

"I-I, I-I-I j-just t-thought-" Mac desperately tried to explain as he slowly realized the full consequences of his actions. Ben silenced him with a smack on the head.

"Godammit, do you have any idea what you've done? Oh God, this is it! Now you're done it! You're asking for it now!" he fumed. Keeping Mac pinned up with one hand, he took out his cell phone with the other and made a call.

"W-what are you going to do?" Mac asked, barely unable to speak above a terrified whisper.

"Hey, Terrence? Yeah, we got a problem here. Listen, don't ask, just grab the guys and bring them here. It seems that it's time for you and your kid brother to have a little "talk..."

* * *

"For Pete's sake, not _again_!" Frankie grumbled. Once again, she found herself a participant in the world's most one sided game of tug-of-war with the washing machine. 

Already extremely frazzled, Frankie quickly gave up after a few futile pulls, throwing her end to the ground furiously.

"AUGH! That's it! I give up! I give up!" she cried, throwing up her arms in mock hysterics.

"Oh, c'mon dearie, don't throw in the towel yet! Or in this case, the bed sheet." Someone interrupted with a soft chuckle. Frankie groaned, not caring to look up as she already recognized the speaker.

"Hi Grandma." She mumbled, grabbing a stack of clean towels waiting to be folded. Madame Foster, founder and head of Foster's Home for Imaginary Friends, slowly hobbled into the laundry room, clucking in mock disapproval.

"What's this, trouble with the sheets? Oh, Funny Bunny won't like that." She cracked, getting a wan smile out of her granddaughter. As Frankie resumed her towel folding, Madame Foster cocked her head and gave her a concerned look.

"Oh c'mon Frankie, what's wrong? Don't that those lousy old sheets get to you. Where's your "special helper?" Just get Mac in here and I'm sure you two will have that thing out in a jiffy!"

"Don't need him. Mac's not here." Frankie replied flatly. Madame Foster cocked an eyebrow.

"What? Odd, that's not like the little fellow at all. Mac should've shown up a while ago."

"He left early." Frankie replied again stoically, still concentrating on her folding. Madame Foster shook her head.

"Oh dear, What a shame! I was actually hoping to see you two together in action today, and if Bunny told me the truth about what was going on in here last week, you both can get into some zany predicaments." the old lady chuckled. "Oh my goodness, such an adorable pair! It's so nice that he has you."

Frankie looked up in surprise at her grandmother. "What?"

Madame Foster wagged her finger jokingly "Oh, isn't it obvious, dear? There's no need to hide it. What with his overworked mother and his dreadful older brother, it's so nice to see that he's got at least s_omeone_ to look out for him.."

"Uh, Grandma, I don't think-" but before Frankie could protest any further Madame Foster simply continued to ramble on.

"All those times you've driven him home from school or something because his mother was too busy working, those moments I've found you helping him with his homework or on a school project in the library, the laughter I always hear whenever he's helping you around the house, all the rainy days I've seen you snuggled up together reading together in front of the fireplace, oh my!" The old woman chuckled. "And let's not mention how many times I've seen you shirking your duties now and then just so you can spent some time playing some silly game with the child and Bloo. Oh my, just last week I saw you outside washing the bus, then moments later you three ran by the very next window I passed shooting each other with super-soakers! Oh, all the good times you must have together."

Frankie still struggled to find some kind of retort. "No, Grandma, I...uh...you see, this morning-"

"Ha, and some people think this home is just for adopting imaginary friends." the little old lady laughed softly. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say it's almost like you've used Foster's to adopt yourself a little brother."

Frankie went momentarily silent as she contemplated her grandmother's words.

"Wait…little…."

Madame Foster hobbled over to Frankie and gave her an affectionate pat on her back.

"It's just nice that he has you to look up to dearie. That's all. Oops!" she laughed, "Well, shame on me, I just went off there, didn't I? Oh dear, I must bored you silly with my ramblings, huh? I guess that's just part of the deal when you become an old fogy like me. Good gracious, I don't even think I remember most of what I just said!" the quirky old woman cackled. "Oh well, that's the way the cookie crumbles! Ooooh, and speaking of cookies, my friend Beth from down the street gave me the loveliest new recipe for macaroons the other day! We were playing bridge-"

Frankie's mind raced furiously as the kooky old woman went prattled on. _Wait, was Grandma speaking the truth? Do Mac and I... is that all... _

Her brain rewound quickly, searching for any memory of what Madame Foster just listed. Yep, there it all was. There were all those insane adventures they had had together, some of the most notable the "Funny Bunny" fiasco or that none-too brief dating experience with the awful Dylan Lee. There were all the endless hours playing out in the backyard when she really should've been working and didn't care less about the fact she was shirking her duties. The all too numerous times when Mac showed up to lend a helping hand, just whenever her workload seemed too much to bear alone.

All those late night trips to drop Mac off at home. All those cold, wet afternoons spent snuggled up by the fireplace. All those times she would be sitting at her computer and hear him ask her if she could help him out on his math, or whatever. How whenever he needed something, he always came to _her_. And how every time, she would be more than happy to do whatever it was for _him._

Madame Foster spoke the truth. Mac really was special to her, and Frankie knew it, deep in her heart. He was more than a friend, he was like a...a...

Her grandmother's words echoed briefly within her head; _little brother._

"You're right."

"...So there Beth and I were, ankle deep in-eh? What's that?" Madame Foster asked.

"You're right, Grandma, you're totally right!" Frankie cried excitedly, throwing the towels aside and standing up. "I do, wait, I mean Mac needs, uh, hold on…"

Madame Foster gave her granddaughter a peculiar look. "Frankie, are you feeling alright?"

"Yes, wait…no, I mean…uh…I gotta give Mac a call!" Frankie sputtered as she reached into her pocket to grapple for her cell phone. Whipping it out, she got halfway though dialing Mac's home phone when suddenly…she just stopped completely in mid-dial.

Madame Foster actually backed away a bit, unnerved by her grandchild's sudden erratic behavior. "Frankie dear, is everything okay?"

Frankie desperately wanted nothing more in the world at that instant than to just make the call and talk to Mac. However some unseen force was keeping her from doing it. It was as if she already knew that if she called now, Mac wasn't going to pick up. In fact she didn't feel as if Mac was even home now. Frankie just stood there as this newfound sixth sense told her the same thing over and over; _He's not there._

But that wasn't all it was telling her. The unnerving, almost maternal instinct revealed something else, something Frankie already knew deep down. _Mac's in danger. He needs you. NOW._

"Grandma, what time is it?" she asked worriedly.

Madame Foster shrugged her shoulders. "Oh, I think it's a little after five."

"Five o'clock…Mac's been leaving around that time a lot….but I know it's not for home…but…" suddenly, it dawned on her.

"Grandma! Grandma!" she cried frantically, picking up a surprised Madame Foster and bringing her face to face. "I need your car keys, now!"

"Frankie, why do-"

"It's Mac, Grandma! I think Mac's in serious trouble!"

"But dear, what on earth…"

"I don't know, Grandma! I don't know what's going on, I don't know who it involves, I don't even know why it's happening! But I think I know where it is. I need to get there, and I need to get there, fast!"

"Oh goodness! Why didn't you say so? Here, take them! I have them-" the instant she took them from her sweater pocket Frankie snatched them and before the old woman could even register they were gone, the girl had already cleared three flights of stairs, her voice ringing throughout the house.

"JUST HOLD ON, PAL! I'M COMING FOR YA, MAC! JUST HOOOOOOOLLLLDDD OOOOOOOOONNNNNN!

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Personally, I'm not sure if this chapter is as good as the others, but I'll let you guys decide what you think. Thanks for your support! Please read and review! 


	6. More Than My Friend: Chapter 6

Here we go, everyone! The exciting climax! Woohoo!

Reviews would be very much appreciated!

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"Woohoo, c'mon Brett!"

_CLANG!_

"Yeah, that was a good one!"

"Me next, me next!"

_CRASH!_

"Over here! Over here!"

The six teenagers hooted rambunctiously as they took turns kicking a beat-up garbage can around the alley. At first sight, it just seemed like a bunch of hooligans with nothing better to do. However, after they all got in a few more good kicks, one of the group, a grungy-looking boy with a black mullet, motioned for them to stop. When the primitive game was over, the black-haired teen set the garbage can back up, knocked off the top, reached in…and hauled out one dirty, aching, terrified little eight-year-old.

Mac gasped for air as his older brother Terrence hung him in the air by his shirt for his gawking friends, like some sick trophy. He immediately tried to rub off the rancid-smelling garbage that now stuck all over him, a spectacle that was only greeted by more howls and jeers from the mob.

The boy mentally berated himself as he removed a rotten piece of something undistinguishable from his hair. What was wrong with him? How could he have been so stupid? Mac cursed himself for letting blind rage for getting the best of him. Marching off to Terrence's friend and supplier, staring him right in the face, and completely trashing over a hundred dollars worth of drugs? Come on! What in the world made him think that was a good idea? What did he expect these punks to do? Leave him alone, just because he finally stood up for himself? Just because he was a little mad and thought he had enough?

Not these guys. Bad mistake. Really, really bad mistake.

"Sooooo, you had enough, Mr. Tough Guy? Or do you need a little while more in time out?" Terrence sniggered, pointing back at the trash can.

Mac did not reply. All he could do was stare back, face distorted into a bizarre mix of fear for his life and utter hate for his brother. Terrence clucked disapprovingly.

"Tch, tch tch, still trying to be a big man? Have you forgotten everything I've taught you? Well, maybe THIS will jog your memory!"

He laughed maliciously, giving his little brother a swift punch to the gut. Mac gasped in pain and bit down hard on his lower lip, doing everything in his power not to cry out. Unfortunately however, he was unable to keep back the tears that welled up in his eyes, causing Terrence to grin in sick satisfaction.

"Awwww, what's the matter? Is baby upset his big brudder is being reawy mean? Does the baby want his mommy? Huh? Is he gonna cwy about it? Cry baby, cry!" He hissed. Now, hot tears began to pour unchecked down Mac's face, accompanied by the triumphant cheers of the frenzied crowd. With a harsh laugh, Terrence pinned the sobbing Mac against the wall.

"Okay, bud, fun time's over! It's time we stopped horsin' around and really got down to business." He said, snickering at his little joke "Sorry man, but you know the basic rule; step out of line, and pay the price. And if our friend Ben here is right about the stunt you pulled off today, we got a ways to go before we've settled this. You ready?" he sneered.

Mac stared back at Terrence with tearstained eyes. Still weeping uncontrollably, he managed to gather what little voice he had left, and managed to murmur hoarsely,

"I…hate…you."

Terrence responded by throwing back his head with a cruel laugh.

"What was that, little guy? You hate me? Oh no! Oh, boohoo! Look guys, my baby brother doesn't like me any more! Oh, woe is me, woe is me!" Terrence cackled sarcastically, his cronies chiming in like a pack of hyenas. Terrence grinned malevolently.

"You think it really matters to me what you think, bud? Well, you know what?" He leaned in closer to Mac, speaking directly into his ear in a cruel whisper. "I don't care."

Mac could only let out another hoarse sob. Terrence laughed, taking malicious pleasure out of the torment his brother was going through.

"I don't care what you think, I don't care! None of the guys here care, Mom's too busy to care, that's the way it is! You gotta understand this, little bro; we don't care. Nobody cares about you. And you know what?" he ask, leaning in close. "No one's ever gonna care, you little shit". He whispered diabolically.

Mac hung his head in defeat. His brother spoke nothing but the honest truth. He had tried to stand up for himself, he failed miserably, and now no one was going to care what kind of horrible fate he was about to suffer. With one last sob he shut his eyes tightly, waiting for the inevitable. With a vicious laugh, Terrence clenched one of his hands into a fist, pulled back, and.…

The teenager halted in mid-punch at the sound of screeching brakes. All six looked in surprise in the direction of a sleek black car that had just come careening to a halt by the alley. The moment it stopped, one of its doors blasted open immediately as something flashed out in a blur.

"What the-"

Terrence was cut off quickly by the fist that came crashing straight into his mouth. Instantly he was sent stumbling backward, dropping his captive in the process. Mac, who had been expecting to get hit himself, was quite surprised when he suddenly felt himself fall to the pavement. Lying on the ground, his eyes snapped back open, utterly perplexed about what just happened. However, before he could think any further, his eyes suddenly came in contact with a pair of extremely familiar blue sneakers as someone took their (well, her) place in front him.

Frankie placed herself squarely between Mac and the teens, shielding the eight-year-old boy from the others with her own body. Breathing hard, fists tightly clenched, and fire burning in her eyes, Frankie stared them all down boldly as she took a fighter's stance.

"Leave…him…ALONE." She growled, her voice quivering with rage.

The teenagers dumbly remained where they stood, unsure of what to do next. A scared little kid was one thing, but none of them were quite sure if they wanted to take on this enraged young woman who was more than ready for a fight. After a few more tense moments of hesitation, Ben finally made a move and charged forward, screaming angrily.

"You stupid bit-"

Before he could finish speaking Frankie immediately let fly with a massive right hook to the gut. Instantly the boy was sent sprawling to the ground, all the fight knocked out of him with one blow. Again the rest stood stock still, not quite positive if it was worth it to charge an angry redhead who could deal out punches like a heavyweight boxer just so they could teach Mac a "lesson". At last though, Terrence, who had managed to recover sufficiently enough from Frankie's first punch, jabbed his finger at her and bellowed angrily "Don't just stand there, assholes! GET HER!"

At his urging the other four boys yelled savagely as they made a mad dash at the twenty-two-year old. Frankie, never leaving her place in front of Mac, continued to silently stand her ground as the wild mob rapidly advanced. She didn't do so much as bat an eyelash as they all charged upon her, until…

When the first attacker got close enough, Frankie moved like lightening, her fist colliding into the side of his jaw with a resounding crack. The boy stared at her in amazement for a brief moment, then his eyes rolled back until only the whites were showing as he collapsed into an unconscious heap.

Another one tried to lash out at her with a clumsy blow. Before his fist could make contact however, Frankie grabbed his outstretched arm by the wrist, pulled him towards her and immediately fired off a vicious punch squarely into his stomach. The instant she let go he tumbled over like a sack of bricks, doubled up in pain.

"Take this, you witch!" the most heavyset of the group cried, brandishing a metal pipe he plucked from the ground. With a ferocious scream he charged, swinging his weapon wildly. However, the instant he was less than two feet from her…

_THWACK!_

Everyone present cringed as they heard the sickening noise of Frankie's sneaker scoring a direct hit into the boy's crotch. Once she removed her foot, he gave out an extremely high-pitched groan before he fell over like a bag of cement. Frankie then looked up at the last group member standing, who had as of yet failed to move. Frankie smiled grimly at him as she cracked her knuckles.

That was all she needed. Instantaneously the terrified teenager turned around and sped off, running as fast as his legs could carry him and wanting nothing more than to get away from the avenging demon who dressed in a green sweater and purple denim skirt.

Frankie momentarily watched the last of her opponents take off wildly down the street with a sense of grim satisfaction. In less than a minute she had successfully disposed of every one of her opponents. However, once the last goon vanished into the distance, Frankie quickly remembered why she had just been a participant in the short brawl in the first place. With a mixed look of horror and concern, she whirled about to where Mac still lay curled up on the cold pavement.

"Oh my God, Mac!" she cried, dropping to her knees and gently taking the boy by the shoulders. "Mac? Are you okay, pal?"

Mac just stared right back at her, caught in a state of dumb shock. As he failed to respond, tears welled up in Frankie's eyes as she began to grow frantic.

"Oh God, Mac, speak to me! Please, say something! Anything! Please! Are you all right? What happened? It's okay! Anything will do!" she cried, rapidly growing close to becoming hysterical.

Finally though, after what seemed like an agonizingly long period of time, Mac slowly and wordlessly raised his arm in the air. Frankie turned around and saw that he was pointing in the general direction of Ben, who groaned in pain as he continued to remain completely incapacitated from his failed assault earlier.

"What? Him? Does he know something?" Do you want me to get him to say something? Why…" Frankie then realized that Mac had lowered his arm a bit to now point more specifically to Ben's pants.

"What? The cargo pants? Does he have something I need to see?" Frankie asked worriedly. Mac nodded dumbly in response. Quickly she put him down gingerly and scooted over to the teenager, immediately starting to fish about in his pockets.

"Mac, if you'd only tell me what's been going on I…" she stopped as she felt her hand come in contact with something. Slowly, she withdrew the item and held it up for inspection. As she stared at the dime bag of pot in shock, everything began to fall into place inside her mind.

"Leaving early all the time…seeing you here downtown…never wanting to tell me what was going on…they…they…"

Mac wordlessly nodded again. At this, almost instantly the look on her face slowly distorted from one of shock and horror to a look of unspeakable rage that Mac had never seen on her before. She shot a bloodthirsty look down at where Terrence had crawled to while he had been trying to unsuccessfully escape the brutal one-sided brawl.

"YOU SON OF A BITCH!"

In an instant, Terrence found himself roughly grabbed by the shirt and lifted clean off the ground. The grungy mulleted teen took a hard gulp as he came face to face with an absolutely enraged Frankie, whose face had become so red with fury that it almost matched her fiery-red hair.

"You dirty, stinking, low-down piece of crap! So this is it? This is what's been going on?" she demanded fiercely, waving the bag of marijuana in his face. "Making your eight-year-old brother get your rotten drugs for you? Making his life a living hell every day to make sure he didn't tell anyone? IS THIS IT? IS THIS WHAT'S BEEN HAPPENING?" she roared. Terrence, not use to this violent role reversal, was completely paralyzed with fright.

"All right, I'm going to make this clear and simple." Frankie growled, narrowing her eyes. "Everything that's been going on up until now, your little drug ring, the way you've been mistreating Mac, all this stops, RIGHT NOW. You go that? In fact, I don't ever want you screwing around with Mac, EVER AGAIN!" she cried, violently shaking him to emphasize the last two words. "You got that, moron? From this point on, I don't want to see you give him so much as a scratch, you understand? Not you, not any of your asshole friends, NO ONE. You got that?" she hissed. Terrence nodded furiously.

"And don't you dare think you can try and outsmart me by sending one of your goons to do your abuse for you. I don't give a damn if you get some other punk I've never even seen before to pick on Mac for you, you know why? Because as soon as I see any cut, scrape or bruise, then I will come running over to your apartment and beat the living crap out of you. That's right! I'm not gonna care who does it for you, because YOU'LL be the one who's gonna pay for it, every time! If you, or any of your cronies do anything to Mac, then I'll make sure it comes back around to just you _ten times as worse_. If I see a bump the size of a pea, I'll give you one the size of a bowling ball! If I see one black eye, I'll give you black and blue all over your body! If I see a cut, you'll get a scar! And I swear to God, if I ever again find him limping so badly he can barely even walk, I'll put you in a wheelchair for a month!" Frankie snarled, while Terrence quaked in fright within her iron grip.

"You think you got all of that? Did I get that into your thick skull of yours? You do anything to make Mac's life a living a hell, and I'll personally send you to the real deal myself! You want that? DO YOU?" she yelled at the top of her lungs.

"N-n-noooo…" Terrence barely managed to whisper, shaking uncontrollably in fear. Frankie lowered him a bit until the two were at eye level

"Get outta my sight." she ordered flatly, loosening her grip and unceremoniously letting him drop to the ground in a heap. With that, Frankie quietly turned around and marched out of the grimy alley, stopping only to bend down and gather up a still very stunned Mac. Cradling him gently in her arms, she carried him over to her grandmother's car, loaded him into the front seat, got in herself and drove off.

The instant they left, Terrence immediately got up and ran off as first as he possibly could, now of course carrying the extra weight of a very soiled pair of underwear.

* * *

Frankie gently eased the car into the garage. As she turned off the ignition, she glanced over at Mac, still sitting silently in his seat. During the entire way back to Foster's, he hadn't spoken a word. In fact, he had barely done anything much less breathe the whole time. Even now Mac simply sat there, completely motionless, blankly starring out into nothingness. After a few seconds, Frankie finally broke the awkward silence.

"Mac?" she asked softly, resting a hand on his shoulder. "You okay, pal?"

She had barely finished speaking when Mac suddenly threw himself against her, hugging her tightly. Hot tears spilled from his eyes as he openly wept into Frankie's shoulder.

"Frankie…I-I'm so s-sorry..." He bawled unhappily. Frankie immediately gathered him up into a warm embrace, and hugged him close.

"Shh, shh, it's okay pal, it's okay. It's all over, you're safe now." She hushed soothingly, gently stroking his head.

"Frankie…everything I said earlier…so awful…I'm sorry…I didn't…I didn't mean..." Mac managed to whimper between sobs.

"I know Mac, I know you didn't mean any of it. Don't you worry, pal." She reassured him warmly. "Shhhhh, everything's going to be okay. I won't let them hurt you anymore. I promise. "

He looked up at her with tearstained eyes. For a few seconds they just stared at each other silently, Frankie waiting patiently.

"Well, what is it pal? Something you wanted to say?" she asked encouragingly.

Mac suddenly leaned up and planted a small kiss of gratitude on her cheek, holding it for about a second before nestling back into the safe depths of her warm embrace. Deeply touched by this affectionate gesture, Frankie chuckled as she returned the favor with a small peck on his forehead.

"Don't worry about it pal. Everything's going to be okay. Your big sister is going to take care of-"

Frankie stopped herself in mid-sentence. Mac looked up again in surprise, while she looked back just as shocked.

"Wait, did I just say what I think I…"

Mac nodded silently. Frankie slapped her forehead in embarrassment, as her face began to glow with a bright scarlet.

"Oh God, I'm sorry Mac! I didn't…um…you know we're not…I mean, you just, and…I…we're...um..." she babbled as she tried to frantically find a reason for her words.

However, after a few moments, she stopped her futile attempt when she glanced back to Mac. Much to Frankie's surprise, rather than giving her a look of disgust or shock, Mac was…_smiling_. Despite the fact that the tears still flowed freely down his cheeks, an unmistakable grin broke out and plastered itself across his tear-stained face as he looked up into her eyes with a loving gaze. With a sigh of complete contentment, the boy closed his eyes and snuggled happily into her embrace, suddenly perfectly at peace.

Frankie, completely taken off guard by his response, just stared blankly at the little boy in her arms for a few moments, unsure of what to do. After what seemed like an agonizingly long period of time though, a large smile finally began to take form on her face as she felt her own eyes well up with fresh tears. With a sniff, Frankie began to rock back and forth as she continued to gently cradle Mac, whispering softly,

"Yeah, that's right. Your big sister's here. Everything's going to be okay."

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Hold on, hold on! We're not done here quite yet! There's still one more chapter coming up!

Please Read and Review!


	7. More Than My Friend: Chapter 7

Well, here were are! The very last chapter! Thank you for all your reviews and support, everyone! Although the story was actually completed by the time I posted chapter one, you guys really helped a lot by making me feel confident to put up the whole thing. Thank you all so much! Also, thank you all for putting up with my incessant run-on sentences (you think a high school senior in AP English would know better but...bleh, this is not going to be a fun school year.)

Before I go any further, I just want to answer to a couple of your last few reviews:

adele- No Mac's not going to be adopted officially and live at Foster's, Frankie's whole "big sister" comment was more or less just a confession on how she really felt about Mac, namely that he's like a little brother to her. Sounds like a good possible story idea, though!

MisterBlue- To be honest, I don't really have much of a good reason why I gave Terrence his drug habit. I really just wanted to write a Frankie/Mac story, I needed Mac to be caught in some type of the trouble, and I guess I just used this idea because it seemed original enough to me. That's basically it. Good question!

Grand High Idol- I'm sorry! I forgot that there's a bunch of Terrence fans out there, and I will admit my portrayal of him was probably a bit over the top. Sorry, I never meant to strike a nerve like that. Thanks anyway for the constructive criticism!

Now that that's all out of the way, thank you so much everyone! Here we go, last chapter! Nothing big, chapter six was the big climax, this is more than just a little epilogue. Enjoy, nonetheless!

I do not own Foster's Home for Imaginary Friends

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At the sound of the school bell, the doors of the elementary school burst open as children flooded out in an unruly mob. Many got on the large school buses waiting on the curb, others climbed into the cars of their parents, some simply jogged the way home, all of them eager to be free of the educational system for two glorious days.

One child, however, did not seem to be in as quite a rush as all the others. Mac hummed cheerfully to himself as he made his way through the school doors and outside to the sidewalk. While the front of the school was quickly almost completely deserted of kids, the small brown-haired child took it easy as he strolled along at a relaxed pace. Finally, Mac halted near the road and began to rock back and forth on his heels, waiting patiently for his ride "home".

"Hey little bro." Someone greeted him from behind with a grunt. "Whatcha up to?"

"Hi, Terrence." Mac replied casually without looking up. Terrence roughly grabbed him by the shoulders and spun him around so they faced each other.

"What's going on? Aren't you going to go to that stupid house now?" the scraggly teenager asked with a sneer. Mac calmly looked right back at him with a smile, free of any trace of fear.

"Oh, I'll be getting there soon enough." He responded with a carefree chuckle. Terrence gave an ugly scowl and cracked his fists, irritated by his younger brother's rather buoyant mood.

"Well, if you got so much time on your hands today, how about we do something "fun" to make it go by more quickly, huh? Let's-"

They were suddenly interrupted by the sounds of loud honking nearby. Terrence looked up, and almost instantly the color drained from his face as the Foster's bus pulled up to the curb. The bus doors swung open to reveal a broadly smiling Frankie in the front seat.

"Hi Mac! Ready to go?" she asked. Mac gathered up his backpack with a grin.

"Always am! Me and Terrence were just having a friendly chat." He answered, nodding back at his older brother who remained rooted to where he was standing, petrified in terror.

"Oh good! It's so nice to see two brothers happily getting alone. _Isn't it Terrence?"_ Frankie asked him, her warm smile suddenly twisting into a fiendish smirk. "After all, if _someone_ happened to not be getting along with his brother, it would be _such_ a shame. Terrence, you wouldn't happen to know of any such -"

"Nope we're okay no problem here ha ha well Mac I 'll see you at home!" Terrence babbled out like a broken faucet. With that he shot off like a bullet, sprinting home at a speed that would've left a cheetah in the dust.

"Hee hee hee! Oh man, I am never going to get tired of that!" Frankie giggled as she watched Terrence run off. "But seriously though, how ya doin' today pal?" she asked as Mac climbed onboard the bus.

"Pretty good! Hey, you feeling hungry? Mom packed me an extra dessert in my lunch today by mistake, so I decided to save it just for you." Mac smiled fiendishly as he held out a snack-pack of jello pudding. Frankie rolled her eyes with a groan.

"Ha ha, very funny Mr. Wise Guy. I swear, if I ever see any pudding ever again…hey is that one chocolate and vanilla swirl?" Frankie interrupted herself, snatching the pudding snack out of Mac's hands.

"Hey, no, c'mon! I was actually saving that for later!" Mac cried, as he tried to make a futile jump to nab it back. Frankie laughed as she waved it in the air above him playfully.

"Why, what do you need it for? Planning to give it to your _girlfriend_?" Frankie grinned fiendishly.

"Oh c'mon Frankie, I don't have-"

"Oh, Mac, you hound! Chocolate pudding with a vanilla swirl, what a romantic gift!

Coco will love it, I'm sure." Frankie laughed.

"Ewwwww! _Coco_? Frankie, that's GROSS!" Mac whined with a look of disgust. Besides, look who's talking! _Who_ did I find in a very "compromising" position with Wilt on the kitchen floor just a few days ago?"

"Yeah right, I was only on top of Wilt because you and blob butt sent me flying right into him! Jeez, Mac, "Extreme Indoor Skateboarding?" Just when did Bloo ever have any good ideas? You couldn't even steer that thing, I thought a small freight train ran into me, you goof!" Frankie countered.

Mac made another jump for his pudding. "Oh yeah? Don't get started on being clumsy with me! Who was it who got both her hands stuck while stuffing the turkey for dinner last Thursday?"

"Said the boy who I've had to so far fish three times out of the laundry chute, Mister Graceful." Frankie laughed, continuing the playful exchange of insults.

"What? Okay, no fair! Last time you were the one who shoved me down there in the first place!"

"That's 'cuz you soooo deserved it! I warned you guys not to bother me while I was watching my movie, and what do you do? You and Bloo suddenly come running in and spray me with Cheese-Whip! I smelled like a block of cheddar for three days! You so had that coming to you!"

"What movie? You mean _The Little Mermaid_?" Mac laughed as he leapt again.

"Hey, no way, do NOT get me started on the whole movie thing! Like I haven't seen you running around the back yard waving a plastic lightsaber, Mac Skywalker!"

"Oh yeah? Well you still sleep with a teddy bear sometimes!" Mac retorted, sticking out his tongue.

"Oh, and that time you spent the night I'm sure that your "blankie" just packed itself into your bag." Frankie shot back, blowing a big raspberry.

"We almost had to take you to rehab last time Madame Foster baked her cookies!"

"Yeah right! That time you got hopped up on sugar I didn't know whether to take you home or get you a priest for an exorcism!"

"You dance around in nothing but a bath towel in your room to crappy pop music sometimes!" the boy shouted.

At this Frankie wordlessly dropped the snack-pack into his hands and grumpily folded her arms with a pout. "That was low Mac, that was just low."

"It's true." Mac smirked as he took his seat and Frankie started up the ignition.

"Well, you shouldn't have been invading my privacy in the first place, Mister Peeping Tom." she grumbled.

"Excuse me, but I believe it was you who forgot to close your door." Mac countered with a laugh. For the next few minutes Frankie just drove in dead silence until she glanced up in the rear view mirror.

"For your information pal, "Don't Stop 'Til You Get Enough" is _not_ crap, it's a classic."

"Yeah, right." Scoffed Mac.

"Don't talk back to your big sister that way." Frankie reprimanded him sharply.

"Frankieeeeeee…" Mac moaned as he rolled his eyes.

"Hey, I said knock it off!" she barked. "I'm your big sister, and it is _official _now. Besides," Frankie continued as her harsh stare slowly began to give away, "_You _of all people should know about that." She ended with a smirk. The pair looked at each other briefly by way of the rear-view mirror before they burst out laughing.

"Frankie, that blank adoption form you stole from Mr. Herriman's office and made changes to sooooo doesn't count as a legal document!" Mac laughed.

Frankie glance back up at the mirror and stuck out her tongue. "Well excuuuuuse me, Mr. I'll-Provide-the-Distraction-While-You-Run-In-And-Grab-One!"

"Ha ha! I thought Mr. Herriman was going to have a heart-attack when I told him a frame on the fourth floor was crooked by a full inch!" laughed Mac. "And speaking of crooked frames…"

"Hey, I frame the adoption sheet and put it on my wall, I decide how it goes on the wall." she protested. "Besides, I like it a little messy, I like to think I'm sticking it to the Bunny that way."

"Oh yeah, Lady Frankie of the Flowers, fight the power." The child snickered as he pictured the twenty-two-year-old dressed in hippie attire.

"Hee hee! You're still the best, pal." Frankie chuckled as she eased the bus into the driveway of Foster's Home for Imaginary Friends. "Well, here we are." She announced as she pulled the keys from the ignition.

"Thanks, Frankie!" Mac said gratefully, climbing out of his seat and giving her a small hug in appreciation.

"Aw, anytime pal, anytime. Hey, what's this?" she asked in mock indignation as Mac pulled away. "I get a thank-you hug, but no thank-you kiss?"

The boy rolled his eyes. "Jeez, Frankie, what do I look like? C'mon, let's not go overkill here. I stopped having that crush on you a while ago."

"Oh, gross, you know not like _that_!" Frankie replied, making a face. "C'mon, just a thank-you peck on the cheek. It'll be cute!" she cooed.

"Frankie, just open the bus doors, let's not go overboard on the mushy stuff here." Mac groaned. Frankie folded her arms across her chest and stuck out her bottom lip in a pout.

"Pal, don't be like that! C'mon, one on the cheek, or…or…" Mac suddenly began to become very unnerved as he recognized that all too familiar fiendish grin filter across her face. "…Or _else."_ Mac hurriedly began to back down the bus steps until his back pressed against the glass doors.

"Ha ha, okay, very funny, Frankie." He chuckled anxiously. "Okay, uh the joke's over, we can go inside now! Frankie? You don't need to do anything, I said the joke's over! Wait, what are you doing? Is that…is that…_lipstick?_ Frankie, why are you putting so much on? Wait, no, why are you getting up? Don't look at me like that, don't look at me like that! Stoppit! Go away! Oh please, I take it all back! I'll give you the thank-you kiss!

You…d-don't…need…_nooooooo_! "

* * *

Bloo, who had been waiting impatiently inside the house at the window, cheered in celebration as soon as he saw the brightly-colored bus pull in.

"WOOHOO! Wilt, Ed, Coco, Frankie's back with Mac!" he called before bursting out the front doors to greet his best friend, the other three imaginary friends running along in tow. "Hey Mac, wh-"

Before Bloo made it to the bus on his own, the bus doors flew open and Mac suddenly shot out like a bullet, speeding right past his imaginary friend.

"HeyBlooheyWiltheyEdheyCoconotimetotalkgottago!" he gasped in one breath as he blasted by like a miniature racecar. Before Bloo and the others were able to comprehend the situation, Frankie, whose lips were thickly coated in cheap lipstick, suddenly zoomed by in a blur, hot on Mac's heels.

"C'mon, it'll be cute!" she laughed as she chased the frantic little boy around the front lawn of Foster's. At this Mac just put on an extra burst of speed in a vain attempt to escape his pursuer.

"AAAA! No way! You keep away from me!" he cried, turning around briefly to make a cross with his fingers, as if that would vanquish the laughing redheaded demon that chased him.

"Macky-poo, come to your big sister! Come to meeeeeeee!" Frankie yelled in an over dramatic tone, arms spread eagle and ready to hug. As they began a second lap around the yard, Mac looked to Bloo and the others pleadingly.

"C'mon guys! Don't just stand there! _Help_ me!" Mac beseeched as he darted behind a shrub, which Frankie easily cleared in a graceful bound, much to his displeasure.

However, rather than coming to his aid, the four imaginary friends simply stood back and looked on in amusement, giggling at the ridiculous sight as if they were watching a cartoon on TV.

"Hee hee! Sorry man, but you're on your own! This is too good to stop!" Bloo laughed as the comical pair began a third loop.

"Hey Mac, how about trying out for the track team after this? Ha ha, look at them go!" hooted Wilt.

"ARGH! You guys are the worst!" Mac yelled angrily. "If I ever get out of this, I'll-_AAAUUGH_!" he cried as Frankie put an extra burst of effort and scooped him up in her arms, entrapping him in a tight embrace.

"Gotcha now, pal." She whispered with a fiendish smile as Mac desperately tried to wiggle out of her grasp. With that, she made her move and planted the biggest, wettest, sloppiest kiss on his right cheek. Immediately the child ceased his struggling and went limp, eyes wide open in shock as she held it for several seconds before removing her lipstick-coated lips with a wet smacking noise. Frankie then hugged him tightly in a crushing bear hug, giggling as if she were a schoolgirl. Mac, half his face now coated with a vibrant splotch of scarlet lipstick, simply lay motionless in Frankie's arms for a few seconds, mouth agape, until finally he managed to cry out indignantly,

"I……have been violated!"

At the sight of this outrageous spectacle, Bloo, Wilt, Ed and Coco all tumbled to the ground, laughing hysterically. Frankie, milking it for all it was worth, plastered a goofy smile on her face as she nuzzled Mac affectionately.

"Look at us, aren't we just precious?" she gushed as Mac labored fruitlessly to escape her tenaciously loving hold. "Brother and sister, and we're _hugging_! Aw, aren't we the most adorable pair ever?" she continued much to the benefit of her small audience and to Mac's discomfort.

"Whoahaha, look, it's all over Senor Mac's face!" roared Eduardo, tears of merriment pouring down his cheeks.

"All right Mac! Hey guys, hee hee! Check out the ladies man, wooing all the older girls!" Bloo sniggered, clutching his aching sides.

"Coco Cococo!" Coco chirped in her indistinguishable tongue, rolling about on the grass and laughing so hard it looked as if she was about to lay fifty eggs at once. While the four found no end to the hilarity, Mac meanwhile blushed a brilliant shade of crimson, complimenting Frankie's lipstick nicely as he furiously intensified his efforts to get loose.

"Hey, shut up! This isn't funny! Knock it off you guys! Not cool, not cool!" he shouted angrily.

"Aw, c'mon Mac." Frankie chuckled as she continued to cuddle him. "You know you're loving every second of this."

"No, I _DON'T_!" Mac yelled, and with a final burst of desperate energy, he freed himself from Frankie's overly-affectionate embrace and leapt to safety. Not wasting a moment, he spun around and made a diving grab at Frankie's legs, causing the lanky girl to loose her balance and fall with a loud whoop.

"Ha! You're mine now!" Mac laughed as he dived on top of her and began to tickle her ribs furiously. "Tickle fight! Tickle fight!"

"Ackpth! Hahaha! No please! Stoppit! Tee hee!" Frankie squealed as Mac redoubled his efforts. "Eeek! Cutitout! Haha! Someone help!" she cried, thrashing about on the grass.

"Don't worry, back up is on the wayyyy!" Bloo cried dramatically, leaping into the fray. However rather than help her out as Frankie had hoped, the small blue friend promptly grabbed her by the wrists and pulled her arms from her sides, leaving the girl completely at their mercy.

"Go for it buddy, she's ours now!" Bloo cried triumphantly.

"Aw, what's the matter, Frankie?" Mac grinned. "You're loving every moment of this, and you know it!"

"Heehee! Bloo you traitor! No fair, no fair, I can't take you both on at once! Eeek! Teeheehee!" Frankie cried, shrieking in laughter.

"Don't worry, Frankie, reinforcements are coming!" Wilt whooped, bounding over and diving in, only adding further to the melee. Quickly, Ed and Coco followed suit, and within seconds it became nothing more than a mass free-for-all on the front lawn of Foster's.

* * *

An elementary school teacher, after another day of work, was on her way home when she noticed the chaos outside of the house she knew to be the shelter for imaginary friends. She only gave it a passing glance when suddenly she recognized one of her very own students in the midst of the brawl. Slowing down her car to a crawl, she watched her pupil and noted in particular the tall redheaded girl he was locked in playful combat with.

The teacher intently watched as the girl, who appeared to be in her early twenties, squirmed her way out of an unsuccessful attempt on the boy (Mac, as she know recalled) to put her in a headlock. With swift agility she jumped to her feet and with a few deft movements snatched Mac and tossed him into the air. When he came back down, she easily caught him and wrapped the little boy in a warm hug, twirling around a few times until she lost her balance and they both toppled over. All the while both Mac and the girl laughed hysterically with one another the entire time, embracing each other affectionately on the ground for a moment until a small blue imaginary friend left on top of the pair and immediately the playful brawl started up again in full swing.

The teacher watched the scene for a few more moments before she finally stepped on the gas and continued her drive home. After taking one quick glance back, she shook her head and muttered to himself.

"Well, no wonder he seems so odd at times. What a strange family that boy has!"

**The End**

* * *

There you have it! Thanks again everyone!

Now that the story's done, I bet some of you are wondering what I'm going to do next. Hmmmmm, to be honest, it's all up in the air right now. Senior year is picking up, so I'm not sure exactly how much free time I'm going to be getting anymore.I'm trying my hand at some one-shot fics, so we'll see how those turn out.

I'm also trying to do a sequel, but that whole project has kind of hit the wall at this point.I'm at a crucial point where I don't know whether I want to keep going with it as it is, or totally revamp the whole thing and split it up into two smaller stories (I think I'm trying to pack way too much in it and I'm not getting enough of the drama as I'd like to have in it like this.) We'll see how it turns out! I just don't want to start uploading it and stop writing halfway, I refuse to leave the readers a a permanent cliffhanger as so many others have done with what I consider very good stories (until they abruptly end).

So, until I work everything out, thank you so much everyone! Hopefully I'll be seeing you around here soon!

-Dude13


	8. Falling Apart: Chapter 1

I HATE MY COMPUTE! I HATE MY COMPUTER! I HATE MY COMPUTER!

That basically sums up how I've been feeling for about the last week.

For some reason, my computer is refusing to let me upload the sequel for "More Than My Friend." Not that it's not letting me upload the specific chapters, that's all working just fine. The problem is, whenever I click on "New Story," it keeps flashing me the same message that I haven't "read and agreed to the content guidelines." This is of course a lie, as I've been agreeing to the guidelines for TWO WEEKS NOW.

To be honest, I can't explain it. I've agreed to the guidelines, I've wait seven days, I've done it again…and again…and again…bleah. I'm still being told that I haven't accepted the guidelines, and I'm still being told to wait for up to seven days.

Trust me, it's not the site itself that's doing this to me. has got nothing to do with this, believe me when I say it's just my computer that's doing this to me. When I was checking my account on my older brother's computer about a week ago when we were visiting him in college, the site was all set to let me choose a category and get my story uploaded. However, I didn't take the opportunity then, as I thought that "Well, since I'm told I'm all set with the guidelines here, we can't I just do it at home?" Unfortunately, as soon as I got home and clicked "New Story," all I got was "Dude13, you have not read and accepted to our content guidelines…blah blah blah."

So that's it. I don't know why on earth my computer just won't let me submit a new story and instead shows me the same stupid screen over and over.

However, I'm not going to let this piece of junk get the best of me. While waiting to be allowed to upload chapter 1 of the sequel as a separate story, I've written close to 90 of the sequel, and I'm not going to stop now and simply throw myself at the mercy of the family computer. Instead of waiting possibly forever for my computer to get its act together while my story just rots away in a word document file, this is what I'm going to do. Simply put, I'm just going to start loading the chapters for the sequel starting right here, right now, and instead of making "More Than My Friend" one of two separate stories in a series, I'm being forced to combine them into a kind of super-fic.

God knows I'm not happy doing this, and I'd much rather prefer to be able to have two stories then this hybrid I've got on my hands, but I just really want to get it up on the site. I'm just through with waiting and technical difficulties.

So, unless I get this bug on my computer worked out, here we go! Chapter 1 of the hopefully much-awaited sequel of "More Than My Friend." HOORAY!

Disclaimer: I do not own Foster's Home for Imaginary Friends.

* * *

_Falling Apart_

_Ding Dong!_

"Hello?"

_Ding Dong! Ding Dong!"_

"Anyone there?"

_Ding Dong! Ding Dong! Ding Dong!_

"C'mon, c'mon…" Officer Thomas O'Brian grumbled to himself as he rang the doorbell for the fourth time.

Why wasn't anyone answering? This was the place, wasn't it? He checked the address written on the small note card he carried in one hand. Yes, it matched up with the antique mailbox out near the metal gates. And of course, he _had_ been told to go to the local home for imaginary friends, and the police officer knew for a fact that this was the only such institution for miles around. So why wasn't anyone home? It probably was inhabited by at least a hundred imaginary friends, surely one of them would have the common courtesy to open the door, especially for a policeman such as himself.

He cursed under his breath as he shoved the address back into his pocket. Maybe he needed to ring the doorbell again-

"Oh dear, I'm terribly sorry for the inconvenience! Welcome to Foster's Home for Imaginary Friends, how may I help you?"

Officer O'Brian looked up at the British-sounding speaker who had suddenly opened the door while he had been stowing the note card away. He nodded politely at his greeter, an oversized rabbit who appeared to be very properly attired in top hat, jacket and glass monocle positioned in his right eye.

"Officer Tom O'Brian, town police. I'm sorry to disturb you like this, uh, Mr…"

"Herriman, Mr. Herriman." The rabbit corrected him. "And believe me, sir, I should be the one who should be apologizing. It seems that while I was attending to some important paperwork in my office, I thought that our resident caretaker was taking care of the door. I don't know what on earth she might be up to at this moment, but I give you my deepest regrets for keeping you waiting like this-"

"Oh no, it's not a problem at all." Officer O'Brian waved it off quickly, eager to get to business. "That's okay. I just have some quick business to attend to, Mr. Herriman. Do you think I could speak with two particular occupants of the house?"

Mr. Herriman gasped as he was completely taken aback by this request. "Sir, please! I know as a keeper of the law you are only attending to your duties, but believe me, I don't think any residents of our establishment would be so brash as to get mixed up-"

"Hold on, hold on, I have their names with me here." The policemen cut him off, reaching into his pocket again for the scrap of paper. "Um, lemme see here...uh...aha! Does a Miss Foster live here? First name Frances, answers by the name of Frankie?" he inquired.

"Why…I…well yes, but-" Mr. Herriman tried to object.

"And also one Mr., uh…I'm not sure how you pronounce this…um…do you also have a Mr. "Kazoo" in residence? First name Blooragard?"

At this Mr. Herriman promptly withdrew his objections and narrowed his eyebrows with a frown. "Oh." He replied grimly. "_Those_ two. Now I see. If you will pardon me for a moment." The rabbit turned around and made his way inside a nearby office with a very dignified hop. O'Brian nearly jumped out of his skin when he heard the rabbit's booming out over the house intercom.

"MISS FRANCES! YOU ARE NEEDED HERE IN THE FOYER AT ONCE! COME DOWN THIS INSTANT, YOUNG LADY, AND NOT A SECOND LATER! BELIEVE ME, IF YOU ARE NOT DOWN HERE WITHIN THE NEXT THREE MINUTES, THE CONSEQUENCES WILL BE DIRE! NOW COME HERE OR ELSE YOU CAN EXPECT A SIGNIFICANTLY REDUCED PAYCHECK NEXT FRIDAY!"

Before the police officer had time to recover from his shock, Mr. Herriman briskly hopped back out of his office, nodding politely as he passed by.

"Just a few more seconds, if you please."

"Um…no problem." The man responded dazedly. He watched as the rabbit entered the next room, an entrance that was quickly followed by a series of outraged protestations.

"Ow! Hey, what's wrong with you? C'mon, I'm still eating breakfast!" a high-pitched voice yelled angrily.

"Not anymore, not until you've explained to me what's been going on, you rascally miscreant! To the foyer, at once!"

"Hey, you can't-OW! Knock it off-OW! Okay, I'm going! OW! OW! OW!"

Mr. Herriman re-entered the front hall, dragging a small, blue gumdrop-shaped imaginary friend along with him by the ear, or at least where the little thing's ears would be had he possessed them.

"Ouch! C'mon Mr. H, I wasn't doing anything! I promise! Ow! Okay, okay!" he whined piteously.

"Miss. Frances, where are you?" Mr. Herriman called out irritably. "I swear, if you're not here in-"

"I'm coming, I'm coming! Sheesh, hold your horses!" came a grumpy, feminine voice from the stairway. Officer O'Brian looked up to spot a tall, lanky young red-haired woman racing down the main staircase, mumbling darkly under her breath. By the looks of the green bathrobe that she was still tying around her waist and the wet strands of hair that flopped about wildly as she hurried down, it was apparent that she had just been in the shower.

"It can never be when it's remotely convenient, can it? It's always gotta be while I'm in the shower, getting dressed, in the middle of…wait, what the?" she asked bewilderedly as she noticed the police officer standing in the doorway. "Mr. Herriman, what on earth is going on here?"

"I should be asking _you_ the same question!" the large rabbit growled angrily. Frances "Frankie" Foster cocked an eyebrow, utterly confused by his response.

"Um, okaaaaay…"

"Don't play dumb with me, young lady!" Mr. Herriman barked angrily. "What is it? What did you do?"

"What do you mean, what did I do? HEY!" Frankie cried indignantly as she noticed Bloo, fidgeting about painfully in Mr. Heriman's tenacious hold. "Oh no, oh no! No, no, no! Look, I have no idea what Bloo did, but there's absolutely no way I'm going to let_ him_ drag me down with-"

"Master Bloo? Don't you mean your _partner-in-crime_?" Mr. Herriman interrupted. Frankie gritted her teeth angrily. With a growl, she clenched her fist and shook it furiously in the rabbit's face.

"Hey look, I'm not sure if you were just listening to me, but if that stick up your you-know-what is effecting your hearing as well-"

"Well there's no surprise! Criminal slang being used by the criminal-in-question! It's all starting to come together now…"

"Hey, Mr. H, if I can speak for myself a little bit here, I think we have a bit of a misunderstanding-" Bloo attempted to smooth-talk his way out.

"No! Don't even think about it!" Frankie snapped, jabbing a finger accusingly at the small friend. "Don't you dare try and pin this all on me! If you-"

"Aha! First the crime, and then betrayal! Such black-heartedness, I should've expected nothing less from-"

"Will you knock it off, you long-eared rodent?" Frankie almost screamed. "I don't know what-

"You don't know what? _You_ don't know what? Hey, I just wanted to eat my Fruit-Loops, if you guys are gonna set me up like this-" Bloo complained angrily.

"I told you, knock it off! You're not worming your way out of-"

"Well if you think I'm dimwitted enough to let your partner take the fall entirely for you-"

"For the last time, I-"

"_EVERYONE PLEASE_!" someone suddenly screamed at the top of their lungs. Instantly the three bickering house residents went silent as they turned to the immensely exasperated police officer. "Will all three of you _please_ be quiet? I can assure you Mr. Herriman, no crime has been committed here!"

"Oh…" Mr. Herriman replied sheepishly. Deeply embarrassed, he began to blush noticeably through his silver-gray fur as he quickly released his grip on Bloo.

"Er, I do believe I owe you two an apology…"

"I don't think 'sorry' is gonna do it, Peter Cotton-Butt-" Frankie began to snap.

"Look, look, can we just get down to business here?" Officer O'Brian cried. "This is still urgent! I was sent here because Miss Foster and Mr. Kazoo were both requested for by one Mac-"

As if he had said the magic words, within a moment the caretaker and imaginary blob's jaws plummeted in near unison as their eyes bugged in mortified shock.

"Mac? What about Mac?" Frankie asked nervously, instantly forgetting all her previous rage. At the sound of his creator's name, Bloo gasped in shock and almost immediately turned into a much paler shade of the color from which he derived his namesake.

"What happened? What happened to my buddy? Tell me! Tell me! TELL ME!" he cried frantically as he slipped right into a state of near-hysteria, and instinctively he latched onto the officer's jacket and started tugging ferociously. The officer sighed painfully as Frankie managed to release the little creature's hold and pull him back.

"Well, it appears the child in question asked for both of you after we took him down to the station this morning. It's okay, he's okay!" he reassured the two quickly, after noticing that Frankie looked as if she was about to faint upon hearing this.

"Don't worry, he's fine. But…"

"But what? BUT WHAT?" Bloo cried, on the verge of hysterics. Frankie meanwhile wrung her hands so fiercely it looked as if she was going to get her fingers tangled in a knot.

"Oh God, oh God, oh God…" she repeated to herself over and over. That last "but" definitely did_ not_ mean anything good. The policeman paused, took a deep breath, and then looked back to the girl and imaginary friend.

"Shortly after the child went to bed last night, his mother went out to pick up his older brother from a friend's house. On the way home however, it appears that they had a nasty run in with a drunken driver, and…" he paused for a moment to recompose himself. This was _never_ easy.

"There were no survivors from the accident." He finished bluntly.

Everyone present in the Foster's foyer went dead silent.

* * *

PS. If you guys see an abundance of errors involving run-on words and the like, don't tell me. QuickEdit has been doing this think to me since I first uploaded chapter 1 of More Than My Friend. I'm gonna try and go over every chapter before I upload it. but I'm definitely going to be missing some mistakes here and there.

Thanks everyone for bearing with me here!

If my computer does ever get its act together, I will try and put this up as a separate story.

However...chances of that happening don't look so good.

Thanks anyway!


	9. Falling Apart: Chapter 2

All right! I'd like to thank for all the encouraging reviews. Thanks so much, guys!

Also, more importantly, I'd also like to thank you guys for bearing with me and my computer dilemma. Thanks a bunch, everyone!

And now, without further delay...chapter 2!

* * *

Mac shivered uncontrollably as he sat on the hard, wooden bench. However, the heavy blanket that some kind officer had draped over him earlier or the cocoa someone had handed to him could do nothing to ease the indescribable cold he felt right now. The bitter chills the boy felt weren't caused due to the indoor temperature. He only wished that were true. 

Nothing could ease the coldness he felt in his heart.

Strange as it was, that was the only way Mac could describe it. That dark, empty feeling he felt, the icy pain that felt if it was chilling his very soul. No amount of blankets or warm beverages could do anything to aid him of his dumb shock. But then again, nothing much helps anyway when you find out your family is…

_Dead._ Mac thought silently to himself. _Mom. Terrence. Dead. Gone. Forever._

Again the chills swept violently through his body. Mac took a sip of cocoa, but he knew very well that it wouldn't do any good. How long had it been since the uniformed woman at his front door told him the horrible news? Three, maybe four hours? It felt like an eternity.

"_Wh-wha? What's going on?"_

"_Hi there. Are you Mac?"_

"_Yeah, but…"_

"_Listen honey, I need to tell you something. I know you're not going to believe me, but last night…"_

Mac shut his eyes as he quickly repressed what happened earlier that morning. God knows how many times he already replayed that awful moment over in his mind: first, waking up, finding the apartment completely empty…the sudden knock on the door...the mysterious lady adorned with a police badge….seeing the all-too familiar battered pink purse in her hands….the terrible moment of truth…

Mac didn't cry though as he went over the horrid memory again for the millionth time. He felt like he had already done more than enough of that for the next ten years. He probably almost dehydrated with the amount of tears that he shed earlier. For now, his puffy eyes stayed bone dry as he sat huddled in the midst of the busy station, with officers running about and attending to God knows what. But he knew the tears would come back. They would keep returning to him for a while.

That was it. His mother, older brother, gone. Sure, his mother wasn't there as much as he liked in his life, and of course Terrence had done nothing but mercilessly pick on his baby brother for as long as Mac could remember. But even then, as the chills surged up and down his spine, Mac knew he would give everything at that point for just one more hug from his mother, or even one more noogie from his brother.

But no, that was all gone forever. Things would never be the same and Mac knew it. His life as he had known it was over.

But how were things going to turn out now? The little boy gave a dry sob as he contemplated his few possibilities. His mother was gone. There was no "dad," for that drunken louse ran off on them long ago. Hell, they hadn't had a clue where he disappeared to for _years. _Even if they did find him, what judge in his right mind would award such an awful human being custody of an eight-year-old child?

There were no grandparents. There were no aunts, no uncles, no cousins; no one. His entire family had been in that car when the drunk driver had crashed into it and now, they were all gone.

Mac had absolutely no one left in the world.

Well, not exactly. As if brought on by divine intervention, no sooner had Mac finished his thought a nearby door burst open. He looked up and only needed a second to recognize the flash of a crimson ponytail just narrowly sticking out among all the busy officers rushing about. In an instant Mac hurled off the blanket, dropped the cocoa and dived forward off the bench, hovering in midair for barely a moment before Frankie grabbed him in a tight embrace.

"Pal…I-I'm so sorry…" Was all Frankie could manage to say before she began to cry. Mac's eyes had already begun to well up since the moment he saw her enter, and already the little boy had completely dissolved into tears, unable to respond with a comprehensible reply. Cradling him gently, Frankie carried the bawling Mac back over to the bench and took a seat. Once they were settled down, Mac immediately felt a smaller pair of arms wrap around him in a tight hug.

"Mac…oh jeez…buddy…" Bloo tried to sputter out some kind of reassurance, but like Frankie he too was unable to contain himself and burst out sobbing, unable to do anything but hold his creator tightly and hoping that his presence alone would ease Mac's inconsolable grief somewhat.

It was a pathetic sight to behold. The girl, the boy, the imaginary friend, all three clung tightly to each other miserably, the tears flowing freely down their faces like tiny rivers. Frankie tried to unsuccessfully calm down the boy by hushing soothingly into his ear.

"Shhhh..c'mon pal..it'll be okay. Don't worry, everything's going to be all right. I-I promise." She managed to choke out.

"No." Mac sobbed back. "No, it's not."

* * *

Frankie sighed heavily as she rested her head back against the wall. It had been about an hour since she and Bloo had first shown up. Maybe more, maybe less, she didn't know, much less care. Blowing a wisp of hair from her eyes, she glanced down at the two forlorn little figures in her lap. 

After being able to do nothing but weep uncontrollably for a good twenty minutes, Mac finally calmed down somewhat and simply dozed off in her arms, completely exhausted from the recent turn of events. Bloo had quickly followed his best friend's example and too drifted off into an uneasy sleep, also wiped out by the emotionally draining happenings of the last two hours.

Frankie began to gently run her fingers between Mac's chestnut-brown hair as she struggled to make sense of the shocking turn of events.

The child's mother and brother were gone, just like that. As simple as it sounded when summed up at the basics though, she still found herself having immense difficulty wrapping her mind around the very idea. Why was it in just one moment, two people's lives could be ended so suddenly and so brutally, turning everything upside down in just one-

Her thoughts became momentarily interrupted when Mac suddenly whimpered in his sleep and began to wriggle about uneasily. Immediately Frankie's strong maternal instinct kicked in and she hugged the little boy closer to herself, nuzzling him gently and shushing soothingly into his ear. This course of motherly action did the trick, and after a few moments Mac calmed down and rested silently in her arms again. With that minor crisis averted, she settled back into a state of contemplation.

Well, there really wasn't any need to review what happened anymore. Mac's mother and older brother were _dead_. That was it. Got in a car accident, neither one survived, what else was there to say? As much as she loathed admitting it, that basically was all there was to it. They had both died they _weren't_ coming back, and there was absolutely _nothing_ that could be done to change that unfortunate truth.

What was to become of Mac, then? Frankie knew all too well that he had no "Dad" to pick up the slack. According to Mac, the good-for-nothing bum had run off when he was only three, and that had basically been the last they had had heard of him. Okay, so scratch _that_ option.

But what other choices were left? In all the time she had known him, Frankie had never heard Mac mention any other family members or relatives of any sort. Never any talk of a grandma or grandpa, no word of Aunt so-and-so or Uncle what's-his-face, no mention of cousin whoever or anything like that.

Frankie instinctively hugged the little boy closer as she mulled over the cold, awful truth with a whimper of horror; Mac was now an orphan. He didn't have anyone left to look after him.

_Whoa, whoa, whoa! Just what in the HELL are you thinking, Frankie? _Her common sense suddenly shrieked at her.

Frankie quickly snapped out of her quagmire of depression as soon as she realized how dead wrong she was. Damn, just what the hell was she thinking? Orphan? No one else left? That was probably the biggest lie she had ever heard in her entire life.

He's _still_ had his big sister.

She wasn't a sibling in the traditional sense, however; she wasn't even biologically related to Mac. Indeed, the girl herself didn't think their relationship would go that far at all when she had met him originally almost a year ago. Back then, he was just a little boy looking for a place for his best friend whom his mother wouldn't let him keep anymore. Although she was delighted by the fact that he was the first child she'd seen who returned for his imaginary friend, she didn't exactly pay that much attention to him at first.

However things change over time. Despite the fact the in the beginning Mac came to Foster's only to keep Bloo from getting adopted, he received a great deal of bonding experience with the twenty-two-year-old house caretaker at an unprecedented rate. Indeed, a considerable deal of it was accomplished just a week later after Bloo began living at the house, when while during a very ill-fated trip to the mall, both Mac and Frankie found themselves huddled together inside a clothing rack, hiding from the twenty-or-so security guards hot on their heels. Although the entire outing was an official failure, topped off by the fact that they were still late for her grandmother's birthday, there was at least one good outcome: she now had a new friend.

Things basically all took off from there, before Frankie knew it she was constantly finding herself in new situations that enabled her to grow closer to the little boy. When Mac suddenly began to volunteer to help her out with the housework, which in itself alone was a blessing for the often-overworked caretaker. Then there was that whole internet-related episode that Frankie didn't exactly like to dwell on too much anymore, although the words "Funny Bunny" could be brought up. There was also a myriad of weird, goofy adventures, along with all those long hours in which her chores were actually made somewhat fun, and of course a million smaller shared moments in between.

Before Frankie knew it, he was no longer "Mac," the little kid she befriended who visited every day and would occasionally help her with the laundry. He was now suddenly "Mac," the little brother that Frankie had never had, growing up alone as the only other human resident of Foster's besides her grandmother. Of course even when they had both mutually accepted the fact at heart, it had taken a little longer for both of them to comprehend the fact in their minds. It actually took an awful event in which Mac was helplessly trapped in a situation of complete and utter despair, in which Frankie had to step in and fully realize how much he actually meant to her. Long story short, Terrence was using Mac as an errand boy to deliver his drugs for him, she had found out, as expected a few scrawny teens had been little match for her, and in the end she "officially" adopted Mac as a little brother and stepped in to fill the role as older sibling. True, the imaginary friend adoption form she stole from Mr. Herriman's office and hung in her room after making some changes to it wasn't really an official legal document, but at the time it seemed good enough to suit then both.

Just when Mac needed her most, Frankie had taken the daunting challenge head on, and in the end managed to come through with flying colors. However, saving Mac from life as a drug pawn seemed like a piece of cake at this point compared to what Frankie faced at this point. She knew Mac didn't need some help from some sisterly figure. Now he needed a home. He needed a family.

He needed a mother.

This was all happening so fast, she was almost overwhelmed by it all. When she had first gotten up that morning, her biggest worries had been that she was running low on her favorite shampoo. Now here she was, possibly on the verge of becoming some child's parent, of all things.

As soon as the full force of this undeniable truth finally dawned upon her, almost immediately she could feel the sharp pangs of panic set in. While Frankie chewed anxiously upon her lower lip, the sincerely frightened young woman's mind instinctively began racing to find any other possible options.

Much to her profound shock however, she found this to be a near-impossible task. Every time she tried to picture Mac being shuttled off to some social welfare agency, her stomach seemed to tie itself up in a massive knot and she actually shuddered at the very idea. After a few more unsuccessful attempts, Frankie was forced to understand that the very thought of any of her other possible outcomes practically sickened her; to imagine Mac anywhere but with his remaining "family" actually felt wrong.

Frankie trembled slightly, took a hard swallow and licked bone-dry lips once she realized what had to be done. It had now become clear that she, Bloo, and everyone else back at Foster's where the only ones Mac had left. But more importantly, what was even more painfully obvious that she was the only one willing to look after and actually raise the child.

Her mind however was still a maelstrom of panicked self-doubt. Event though she cared deeply for Mac…still, _her_? Now? Could she suddenly just take on the role as full-time guardian of an eight-year-old boy, fresh out of college, with her full-time duties as a caretaker? And not even so much as a boyfriend?

After what felt like an eternity of deep, silent contemplation, Frankie finally managed to break out into a weak grin when the truth became clear; she had already known the answer deep in her heart from the very beginning.

"Mac." She said softly, gently shaking the boy. "Mac! C'mon pal, wake up."

"Wha…?" the dozy child asked dazedly as he slowly opened his eyes.

"What's goin' on?" Bloo asked, also awoken by Frankie's efforts.

"Mac, listen to me. I-"

"Excuse me, Miss Frances!" someone suddenly interrupted her. Frankie looked up wit an irritated scowl at Mr. Herriman, who for the past hour or so had been talking with the police about "various matters" as he had referred to them before he attended to business and left Frankie with Bloo and Mac shortly after they arrived.

"Look, could you please just give me a moment? I gotta-"

"Priorities, Miss Frances!" Mr. Herriman quipped. "You must save whatever you wished to speak of for later. At the moment this official requires our utmost and immediate attention." he stepped aside to reveal the middle-aged Caucasian woman standing behind him, dressed in a smart blue skirt and jacket and her black hair done up in a tight bun.

_Social Worker, probably. _Frankie noted while the woman nodded politely.

"Good morning, Miss Foster. My name is Melinda Corningston; I'm with Social Services."

_Figures._ Frankie thought to herself as she positioned Bloo and Mac so she could sit upright.

"What do you want?" she asked, eyeing the woman a bit warily.

The social worker took a moment to clear her throat before replying. "Ahem. Well, as I'm sure you all well know, we have quite a bit of a dilemma on our hands here..."

_No shit, lady. _Thought Frankie with a bit of a scowl. She had only known the woman for a few seconds and already her prim and businesslike matter reminded the redhead just a little too much of a humanoid, female Mr. Herriman.

"…Now as well all know, due to the passing of the boy's mother and brother here…"

Mac buried his face into Frankie's shoulder with a sad moan.

"…the child is now without a proper guardian. We have already checked our sources, and we have been unable to locate any relatives to possibly take him in. So, as he is without a suitable home at this point…"

"Don't you worry, I do believe that we've quite settled the matter." Mr. Herriman added. Frankie took a deep breath, smiled weakly at Mac and ruffled his hair affectionately.

"Well, if we gotta do it, I think I-"

"…Mac shall be placed in the care and protection of a local orphanage until he is adopted by a suitable family." The bureaucrat finished bluntly in her cold, flat tone.

As soon as those fateful words had been spoken, Frankie's jaw dropped in shock and she stared blankly at the woman in complete and utter disbelief as Mac froze with terror in her lap. Had that woman really just stated the unthinkable?

"_WHAT_?" The young woman yelled in mortified dismay.

"You can't! You _can't_!" Bloo immediately began to protest angrily.

"_NO_!" Mac sobbed in horror as he clung tightly to Frankie.

"I'm sorry." The social worker replied flatly. "But with no surviving relatives to look after him, we simply have no other choice."

"Unfortunately, after discussing the matter over with her, this is the way it has to be." added Mr. Herriman, seemingly blind to the horrified reactions to the proposed arrangement. "Master Mac, if you'll just come along with -"

"_NO_!" Frankie refused flatly as she protectively hugged Mac closer. "No, you won't!"

"We won't let you!" Bloo growled furiously as he placed himself in front of his best friend.

"I-I don't want to go!" Mac wailed as fresh tears began to stream down his face. Mr. Herriman sighed apologetically, before dutifully lashing out with a stern reprimand, as if that would somehow be enough to convince them.

"Miss Frances! Master Blooregard! Please! Your behavior is quite unacceptable! I understand your reluctance, but I have personally reviewed the matter over myself, and this is what the law dictates!"

"No, no you can't!" Frankie sobbed, unable to belief what she was hearing as hot tears of rage flooded down her face. "He doesn't need to go! He's got a family right _here_!" she insisted fiercely.

"Excuse me?" the imaginary rabbit murmured confusedly, clearly taken off guard by her reply. "What do you mean-"

"Don't take away my best friend in the world!" Bloo interrupted, bawling unhappily.

"Miss Foster, please, you're only making matters worse! It's for the best! If you'll only just hand over the child-" An increasingly frustrated Miss Corningston tried to reason with her. The girl only snarled and shook her head furiously as she held on to Mac as tightly as possible.

"I won't! I won't! I won't! I won't-_HEY_! What the? Just what do you think you're doing? No! _No_!" Frankie cried as a burly policeman suddenly grabbed hold of both her and Bloo after a gesture from the social worker.

"For heaven's sake! Is there really any need for _this_?" Mr. Herriman attempted to protest the unnecessarily harsh action, but with little success. As the brawny officer the imaginary blob and young woman down tightly in their seat, two others tried to wrestle Mac from the iron grip Frankie had on him.

"Ma'am, please!" one of the officers pleaded. "I know you're upset, but-"

"Let go! Let go of him! You can't! I…won't…let…you…_NOOOOO_!" Frankie screamed heartbrokenly as Mac was brutally wrenched from her arms. Mac squealed in horror as Miss Corningston took hold of him.

"No! No, I don't want to go! I don't want to go!" he cried as he squirmed ferociously in the woman's grip.

"Mac, please settle down!" the social worker said none-too-soothingly while she struggled to get a good hold on the hysterical child.

"_HEEELLP_!" Mac yelled as he reached out to his imaginary friend and "big sister."

"Give him back! Give him back!" Frankie hissed at the officer that restrained her. The man shook his head sadly.

"I'm sorry, but I can't-_YOW_!" he roared in pain as Bloo suddenly bit deeply into his arm. As soon as the officer let go, Bloo and Frankie immediately darted forward. The twenty-two-year-old stretched out her arms as far as they would go, desperately wanting nothing in the world at that moment except to get to the child who frantically reached out for her.

"Miss Frances, wait!" Mr. Herriman roared in alarm, but his pleas were drowned out in the midst of the chaos.

"Don't let them take me! Don't let them take me!" Mac sobbed. However, as Frankie's fingers just brushed his hands, she was suddenly roughly grabbed and yanked back as the social worker continued to hurriedly exit the station, very much eager to be rid of the vexed pair of lunatics trying to reclaim the shrieking boy in her arms.

"_OOF_! What the hell? Lemmego, lemmego! Leggo, you sons of bitches!" Frankie snarled ferociously at the cop who held her tightly by the arms. Another officer had already nabbed Bloo in midair, who now thrashed about wildly in his grip.

"You can't stop me! I won't let you! No! Not Mac! Not Mac!" he howled as he gave everything he had, swinging his little arms wildly and snapping savagely at anything that came in range of his teeth.

"_OUCH!_ Dammit, the little punk bit me again!" the burly officer cursed as he desperately tried to get a good hold on the crazed imaginary friend.

Mr. Herriman could scarcely believe the appalling sight before him. In just a matter of moments it had become obvious that two policemen and women were not enough to stop the wild pair. Now, no less then six fully trained officers struggled in vain to subdue the two. Two were trying to contain the outraged Frankie and the others grappled with the ravenous Bloo, actually trying to fit a piece of duct tape over his mouth to prevent him from biting anymore. Despite the seemingly overwhelming odds, the two were still giving an excellent account of themselves.

"Stop this! Stop this at once!" Mr. Herriman implored frantically. "Desist your resistance this instant! Please, stop it right-"

Frankie's eyes bulged in fury as she refused to go down under the force of four police officers. Thrashing about madly, teeth bared like an angry dog's and snarling curses left and right at the men and women who tried to subdue her, she resembled an enraged wild animal of some sort more than anything else.

"You can't do this to Mac! I won't let any of you!" she roared defiantly as she kicked out and struck someone square on the kneecap.

"Ma'am, settle down!" one frantic officer tried to reason with her. "If you continue, we'll be forced to-"

"FRANKIEEEEEE!" Mac shrieked as he was carried off.

That did it. Frankie didn't care what the law had dictated. She didn't care that she was violently resisting several officers of the law, and didn't give a damn that she was only seconds away from being put under arrest.

She couldn't let them take Mac.

Drawing deep from hidden, untapped energy reserves, Frankie gave a savage roar as she violently burst free of her captors. Immediately she made another mad dash, sobbing with every ragged breath.

"Don't worry Mac! Don't worry!" she cried. "Everything's going to be alright! I promise! Every-_AAUUUUUGGGGGGGGHHH_!"

One quick-thinking policewoman had had enough. Almost as soon as Frankie had broken free, she immediately reached for her taser and fired off a well-aimed shot. The redheaded girl screeched as she felt a jolt of electricity rip painfully through her body, momentarily incapacitating her and sending her crashing to the ground.

As soon as Frankie hit the floor, two officers were on top of her, starting the desperate struggle all over again. While she fought in vain to escape once more, she took one final look up at Mac as the hysterically sobbing little boy was carried out.

"BLOOOOOO! FRANKIEEEEEE!" he screamed one last time.

"MAAAAAAAAC!" Frankie shrieked as she watched him get carried out of sight.

As they disappeared from view, Frankie could've sworn that she heard the sound of her heart violently rip in half. The girl immediately burst into tears as she finally stopped resisting the officers that pinned her to the floor, and was sobbing so hard she couldn't even feel them snap the handcuffs onto her wrists.

Mac was gone.

They had failed.

_She_ had failed.


	10. Falling Apart: Chapter 3

Before we get started, I just want to take the time to thank azuretears, SpotlessLadyBug, soulful-sin, Chipsie the sleek tabby cat, gary-stu, and Goddess of Unfinished Projects. Thank you all so much for reviewing!

Also, good news! (Or at least what I think is good news). I just finished the rough draft of this story two days ago! Woohoo! Sure, I'm gonna be editing it for a while, but at least it's finished! Hooray!

Bad news also though; as of this point, according to my computer I still haven't "accepted the guidelines" and all that claptrap. Blech!

Anyway, thanks for everything, guys! Now, without further ado, let's get this show on the road!

Disclaimer: I don't own Foster's Home for Imaginary Friends.

* * *

"Never! Absolutely not! A thousand times no!" Mr. Herriman roared.

"What do you mean no? Why? Just why the hell not?" Frankie yelled right back as she angrily paced back in forth in front of his desk.

It had been at least an hour since they returned from the police station and the heartbreaking fiasco that had occurred there. Once Mac was taken away and Frankie and Bloo had been finally subdued, Mr. Herriman had to use all his skills of argument and rhetoric to convince a furious chief of police not to arrest the duo or press any charges against them. After a good half-hour of expert but frantic persuading by the imaginary rabbit, the chief finally agreed to let both of them off the hook with just a warning, while attributing the disruption they caused due to a "temporary bout of hysteria-induced insanity," as Mr. Herriman so nicely put it.

Of course, however, after narrowly dodging that bullet, once they got home Mr. Herriman gave the pair of miscreants a stern lecture on the importance of obeying the law, doing as one's told, etc. After a good telling-off, an absolutely heartbroken Bloo had immediately trodden off to some corner of the house to sulk and bemoan the fate of his creator and best friend.

Frankie, however, wasn't quite finished. Once the harsh rebuking was over, she immediately suggested a "proposition" to the rabbit about a possible course of action they could take due to the recent course of events. Mr. Herriman, however, had immediately struck down Frankie's "suggestion," a decision that had led directly to the scream session that they had been having for about the last fifteen minutes.

"Miss Frances, please! I know you greatly wish to do so, but just because _you_ want to do so doesn't mean-"

"Don't say it!" Frankie growled, pointing a finger at him. "Don't you dare say "it doesn't mean it's for the best." Don't say it because it's not true! I _can_ do it! We're the only ones he has left, and you as well as anyone else know it! I -"

"Miss. Frances, you will _not_ be adopting Master Mac, and that's _final_!" Mr. Herriman bellowed and slammed his tightly clenched fists hard upon his desk. Despite the ferocity of his blunt refusal however, Frankie simply refused to take "no" for an answer.

"But why not?" she demand with a hiss. "You keeping telling me no, no, no, like some goddamn broken record, but you won't give me one damn reason why you're so right and I'm so wrong!"

Mr. Herriman sighed heavily as he sat back in his chair. "Please, Miss Frances. Believe me, I miss the boy as much as you do. But you unfortunately are just a twenty-two-year-old girl, barely out of college, with a full-time occupation and not so much as a suitor! How do you expect to prove to be a suitable guardian for an eight-year-old child when-"

"That's it? THAT'S IT? _ARRRGGH_!" Frankie yelled in her skyrocketing frustration. "What the hell? Just because I have a job and I don't have a boyfriend means I can't do jack shit?"

"Miss Frances, watch your language!" Mr. Herriman reprimanded her sharply. "I just-"

"No, not until you listen up!" Frankie growled, shaking her head furiously. "In case you haven't heard, we're not living in the twenties anymore! I don't need a boyfriend right now! I'm getting along just fine on my own without a man! And what the hell do you mean about my job? Listen pal, if Mac gets in trouble while he's at "home" while I'm still busy at "work," I think we'd be able to manage because we'd both be in the _same damn house_!" she involuntarily screamed.

"Miss Frances-" Mr. Herriman tried to object.

"This place would be perfect for Mac!" Frankie continued. "We can easily spare a room near mine, I'd have absolutely no trouble putting food on the table for him everyday because I already do it daily for a hundred imaginary friends, he'd have Bloo and plenty of other playmates, I'm here almost _ALL_ the time, and I have a steady income to boot!"

Before the rabbit could reply, Frankie jabbed her finger at him angrily. "And dammit, don't you say this all depends on my job here! What are you going to do about it? Fire me? Well news flash Peter Cottontail, you can't! This is my home too! I've lived here for nineteen years and my grandmother is _your _creator! You're not going to kick me out just to prove your point!" she yelled, quivering with barely-restrained rage at this point.

Mr. Herriman groaned exasperatedly before countering. "Miss Frances, I never said a word about terminating you employment here! Please, there's no need to jump to such ridiculous assumptions! Now you may have argued your point well, but you must remember, I'm _not_ the one who made the final decision about what was to become of Master Mac. The local officials very specifically dictated to us that they thought it would be best if we gave up the child to the care of an orphanage, until he is adopted by a proper family. And, if we wish to fulfill our simple obligations as law-abiding citizens-"

"Hold on! A _proper_ family?" Frankie yelled in disbelief. "He doesn't _need_ to by adopted by some other family! Bloo's his family! _I'm_ his family! Grandma, Wilt, Ed, Coco, only God knows how much everyone here cares for Mac! He doesn't need a _new_ family, he already has one right here!"

"Maybe, Miss Frances, but the local officials have made it extremely clear what they think is best for Master Mac! To repeat myself, I-"

"Yeah, but-"

"Believe me, young lady," Mr. Herriman said sternly, wagging a finger at her. "If they had it entirely _their_ way, you would be locked up like a common criminal at this very moment! For goodness sake, I had to promise the chief of police that I wouldn't tell you where Master Mac was taken so none of us would have to suffer through the same spectacle we just witnessed a few hours ago! Miss Frances, do you have any idea how close you were to-"

"I don't care! I don't care!" Frankie protested fiercely. "I can prove my case, I'll show them that I'm just fine for Mac!"

"Miss Frances, the law has specifically told us what it thought the best course of action was for the child! Why-"

"Screw what they say!" Frankie screamed in protest and angrily stomped her foot.

"Miss Frances I'm sorry, but my answer is still _no_!" Mr. Herriman yelled. "I won't-"

"Yeah, but-"

"He can't-"

"Yes he can-"

"It's wouldn't be-"

"Yes it would!"

"Social Services specifically told us that-"

"I don't care! I'll-"

The girl's infuriating stubbornness finally proved too much to bear, and finally wore his patience to shreds. Fully at the end of his wits, the severely aggravated Mr. Herriman banged his fists upon the desk again, and without even looking at her, he bellowed,

"Miss Frances, this is a house for imaginary friends! We don't just let in every child that is orphaned by a car accident!"

Much to his genuine surprise, Frankie failed to respond with a fierce comeback, or any reply at all for that matter. Only when he heard her sniffle did he look up again. The young woman just stood there in front of his desk, with arms hanging limply by her sides, mouth agape and eyes widened in shock and utter disbelief at what she had just heard.

"Y-you didn't…you did _not_ just say…" she struggled to force the words out as her eyes welled up with tears. It took only a moment for the mortified Mr. Herriman to realize his enormous tactical blunder.

"Oh dear, oh dear! Miss Frances, I'm so sorry!" he apologized, quickly softening his tone. "You know I didn't mean-"

"Fuck you."

Mr. Herriman gasped in shock at the harsh reply.

"_Excuse_ me?" he inquired with an angry growl.

"You heard me!" Frankie snapped. "Is that it? Is that the way we do things now?" Frankie suddenly reached up and pulled back her long red hair that always dangled untidily up front. Jabbing angrily with her finger, she pointed to the long, thin scar located just under where her hairline began.

"Do _I_ have to leave now because of _this_? Huh? Do you want me to just quit and get out of here because of what happened when I was _three_? Is that it? Is that the way we do things here? _WELL_?"

"Miss Frances, I didn't-"

"Fuck you!" Frankie sobbed hoarsely. "Fuck you and all your fucking rules!"

With this final defiant cry she turned around and raced out of the room. Mr. Herriman slumped in his chair with a frustrated groan. Grumbling something incomprehensible under his breath, he reached under his desk to pull out a small glass and a large bottle of carrot juice. Maybe a drink would help settle his nerves.

* * *

Wilt knew quite well that it was impolite to listen in on other people's conversions, but to be honest the lanky imaginary friend couldn't help it. After hearing the tragic news about Mac from an almost inconsolable Bloo, he was determined to gather as much information as he could about the shocking situation as it developed. Plus of course, it was pretty easy to hear the screamfest that was going on in Mr. Herriman's office. He probably could have stood in the dining room and still have heard every word of the fierce argument.

Now, as he stood outside the ornate office doors, Wilt was completely stunned by what he had just heard. Did Frankie really blatantly curse her employer right to his face? And Mr. Herriman! Did he _really_ say what he thought he heard him say? Even though he knew very well that Frankie-

Before the gangly imaginary friend could get a thought further, the doors suddenly burst open and Frankie came rushing out. Event though she was covering her face, it was almost immediately clear that she was crying, much to his alarm.

"Frankie?" he asked concernedly and struggled to keep up with her as she scrambled over to the main staircase. "Frankie, are you-"

"Just leave me alone!" the girl snarled. Before he could get another word in, she pushed him aside and darted up the stairs to her room, all the while trying to hide the tears that streamed down her cheeks.

Wilt paused while he watched her disappear upstairs, which was quickly followed by the angry slam of a door that reverberated throughout the house. Rather than be deterred by her earlier refusal however, the lanky imaginary friend simply remained at the bottom of the staircase, waiting patiently. After what he deemed a sufficient amount of time had passed, he took a deep breath and finally began to make his way up the stairs.

True, Frankie had just blatantly told him right to his face she didn't want to deal with a single other soul. But he knew her far better than that to know when she was lying. She didn't need to be alone; what she needed more than anything was someone else to comfort her, someone whose shoulder she could cry on, someone to provide her with some sort of solace in the midst of so much tragedy.

Actually, what Frankie needed _him_ more than ever, a glaring truth that was all too clear as he finally made it to her bedroom door.

"Frankie?" he asked gently as he peeked his head into her room. It was dark, as all the lights had been turned out and all the curtains were shut to better suit the girl's sullen mood. However, despite this, it wasn't difficult to make out the somber caretaker lying facedown on her bed, lying sprawled out on top of the sheets with her head buried deep into one of her pillows. Although she tried to muffle it, Wilt easily made out the sounds of her hysterical sobbing.

"Frankie?" he asked apprehensively again softly as he opened the door a little more, allowing himself to slide cautiously into the room. Frankie looked up, turned her head around, and stared blankly at the tall imaginary fried through puffy, red, tearstained eyes.

"Um…sorry for barging in," Wilt said quietly, being the supernaturally polite imaginary friend and compulsive apologizer that he was. "I just-"

Before he could get any further, Frankie sat up in her bed and wordlessly reached out with her arms towards him, unable to utter anything more than a slight whimper. Instantly recognizing the distress gesture, Wilt settled down on the bed and immediately she latched on to him tightly and burst out crying anew.

No, "crying" didn't do justice to describe the stricken girl. She was an absolute wreck, and bawled uncontrollably like an infant who had lost its mother as she buried her face in his shoulder. Wilt quickly wrapped his long, skinny arm around Frankie and began to gently rock back and forth with her in his embrace, just the way he knew she liked it.

"It's n-not fair, it's j-j-just not fair." She sniffled. Wilt nodded sympathetically as he hugged the miserable girl closer.

"It's okay, Frankie, it's okay." He tried to reassure her.

"I don't even know where...he said…he said that…I can't …and that we don't…forgot that I…" Frankie managed to moan out between ragged sobs as she drenched his shoulder with her tears.

"Shhhh,….I know Frankie, I heard him…I know." Wilt just whispered morosely. He knew exactly what the hysterical girl was talking about.

A little too well, in fact.

* * *

_(Nineteen years earlier…)_

The tall, lanky imaginary friend cut a curious figure as he somberly sauntered down the nearly empty, God-forsaken icy road. Wilt shivered violently as the freezing January night blasted him with another arctic breeze before plodding onwards to nowhere in particular.

As much as he hated to admit it, the bitter cold, the crushing loneliness of it all, absolutely none of this was new to Wilt. Quite the contrary, he had become all too well accustomed to these and a plethora of other miserable experiences for longer than he cared to think about. Dumpsters served as his bedding and shelter, with nothing to fend off the cold but some old newspaper. Scrounging about in the garbage for any edible morsels served as his only means of sustenance. Then of course there was the fact that he was chased on a near daily basis by every dog, overprotective mother, or any other jackass who didn't like the looks of the tall, red creature that sauntered about in a dismal fashion.

Alas, such was the fate of the abandoned imaginary friend. Wilt stopped and braced himself as another howling wind came by and chilled him to the bone. As his teeth chattered violently, the lanky friend paused a moment to bemoan his fate.

As absolutely nightmarish as his life had become, what else did he have? There was absolutely no point in returning back home to Jordan; he had begrudgingly come to grips with the horrifically ugly truth longer ago than he cared to remember. As an imaginary friend, he had been created for a purpose, and one than he had absolutely failed to uphold at that sole critical moment when it absolutely mattered the most.

From then on, the guilt-stricken creature had since been wandering the roads as little more than a freakish vagabond with no other recourse. He couldn't return to Jordan and his family, for what use would he have for him now as a broken shell of a friend who could never come through for his creator when he was most needed? Wilt's heart practically ached with the horrific shame he had been carrying for so long. It was just as he had decided when he first fled home; Jordan would have no need for a broken failure of an imaginary friend, or any other child for that matter. Wilt felt he was just as useful to anyone as the stub of is left arm was as useful in picking anything up.

"_Augh_!" he cried as his basketball shoes lost traction on a patch of black ice, abruptly interrupting his lament. With a yell of dismay he flipped up into the air and came down hard on the hard, cold pavement, probably badly bruising his back.

The lanky imaginary friend moaned sadly as he just lay there stretched out on the road, showing no sign of wanting to get up again. No, this was it. End of the line. What was the point? What was the purpose of continuing to live through this hellish existence of cold and hunger, forever separated by the person he as an imaginary friend had cared about more than anything else in the whole world, and still failed in the very end?

There was none. He knew his time had come. God had no purpose left for him in the world. If this living nightmare was all the he had to look forward to for the rest of his life, then he might as well just lie back and let the freezing cold end it now before-

Wilt shot upright as the sound of screeching brakes shattered his suicidal thoughts. What was that? Did someone hit a patch of black ice?

The unpleasant answer came to him an instant later with the sounds of a horrific crash down the road and around the corner. Even though it was night, there was still at least enough moonlight available to allow Wilt to spot the rapidly growing spiral of black smoke on the horizon.

His all-too-compassionate soul immediately got the best of him and before he knew it, he was sprinting down the barren road, pumping his legs as fast as he could, his ragged gasps of breath appearing in the cold winter weather, his own woes temporarily forgotten.

Wilt's heart sank as he skidded onto the scene and looked on the appalling sight that lay before him. He peered down through the gigantic opening in the metal road barrier at the upturned station wagon that lay a few yards bellow him. After flipping a few times, it had finally slammed to a sudden halt when it hit a few trees. Now, a rapidly growing fire near the front belched pitch-black smoke into the sky, announcing to the world that a few new souls had been harvested from the earth. From the dead silence that came from the car, aside from the crackle of the ever-consuming engine flames, he guessed that its occupants had not survived the crash.

More pain and suffering. It was all just too much for Wilt to bear. He turned around, gripping his stomach and feeling like he wanted to vomit-

"Huh?" he grunted in astonishment as a peculiar noise caught his attention. He paused and listened carefully; he could've _sworn_ that he just heard…

There it was again. To an imaginary friend like himself, the sound was unmistakable, no matter how faint it was.

It was the cry of a distressed child.

"Hold on, I'm coming!" he hollered hoarsely. Regardless of the danger, the tall imaginary friend boldly leapt off the road and skidded down the hill towards the flaming wreckage. Once he glided to a halt, Wilt bent down to peer frantically through the back windows.

"Hello? Hello! Is anyone-"

He was suddenly interrupted by a small explosion that erupted near the front. Now the terrified screams that sounded from the car became louder than ever, as the car suddenly began to fill up with black smoke. Wilt was running out of time, fast. With strength born of desperation, he stood up and with one kick with his oversized basketball shoe, he shattered one of the windows into pieces. Once he had an opening, he dropped to his knees and began to reach about madly inside the back of the car, regardless of the glass that scratched and cut his arm or the smoke that poured out and stung his one good eye.

The trapped child's wailing, which moments before had been almost deafening, had now come to a sudden halt. However, Wilt had no time to worry about this as he finally felt his hand come in contact with the buckle of a toddler seat.

"C'mon, just hold on! Just a little bit more, please!" he pleaded to the silent unknown child who lay trapped inside the tomb of twisted metal and flames. After madly fumbling with the buckle for a few seconds, he finally felt it come open with a snap. But even more so to his great relief, once the buckle came undone he immediately felt a pair of tiny hands clasp on to his arm.

"Okay, just hold on! It's okay, you'll be fine!" he yelled as he carefully withdrew the child from the car. After a few moments, his arm was pulled completely free of the wreckage. Without a second thought Wilt hugged his precious bundle to him tightly and leapt away from the burning wreckage. A moment later, a large explosion ripped through the upturned vehicle, engulfing most of it completely in flames.

From his position in the snow, Wilt starred blankly at the horrible sight for a few moments, stunned by how close he came to losing his life. No, wait, how close _they_ came to losing _their _lives. Snapping out of it, he finally took a good look at whose life he had had just saved from a fiery end.

He glanced down and found that he was clutching a little girl, probably no older than three years old. As he looked her over the first thing that stood out immediately was the girl's bright fiery-red hair done up in little pigtails, almost the same shade as his own fur. She was dressed in a shirt, purple skirt, and a tiny hooded green sweater that remained unzipped. However, that did nothing to aid her with the violent chills that now made her body shake. It wasn't exactly the cold that was affecting her. From the way she had gone completely silent since he pulled her out and now darted her eyes about frantically and yet seeing nothing, it was clear to Wilt that she had passed into a state of shock over the sudden turn of events. It didn't even seem like she had noticed the tall, mysterious imaginary friend who held on to her at this very moment.

"Hi." Wilt said softly, hoping not to frighten the stunned little girl. Immediately the frightened little creature looked up at the lanky, furry beast that held her with his one arm. Wilt flashed her in a warm, disarming smile, so as not to scare her.

"You okay?" he asked again in the same gentle tone. Lifting up a badly shaking arm, the little girl pointed dumbly to her forehead. Immediately Wilt noticed the growing stream of blood that dripped from a large cut she had received during the crash.

"Oh no! Oh, wait, sorry! It's okay! It's alright." Wilt continued. "Let me fix that up for you, okay? Um, uh….oh!" With a couple quick movements, Wilt gingerly transferred the silent little girl into his stubby left arm, allowing him to remove the wristband on his right arm with his teeth. Stretching it out a bit, the resourceful imaginary friend placed it around the child's head, making sure it covered up her injury as a makeshift bandage.

"Better now?" he asked calmly. The little girl stared blankly at him for a few moments. Finally however, with a tiny sob, she stretched out her arms and enveloped Wilt in a hug, gripping onto him tightly. As she finally snapped out of her shock and began to bawl loudly into his fur, Wilt embraced her tightly and began to gently cradle her in his arm.

"Shhhh, it's okay. You're all right now." he said gently."It's all over, you don't-"

"Hey! Hey you! Hey!" someone cried frantically from above. Wilt glanced up and noticed someone standing up on the road, silhouetted by the headlights of their nearby parked car.

"HELLLLLOOO!" the person yelled, cupping their hands around their mouth. Are you alright down there?"

Wilt glanced at the little redheaded girl that cried loudly in his arm and smiled weakly up at the mysterious stranger.

"Yeah." He replied. "I think she's going to be okay..."

* * *

Anyway, thanks for all your support, everyone! Reviews are very much welcome! 


	11. Falling Apart: Chapter 4

Wilt glanced over at the alarm clock next to Frankie's bed. Four-thirty-six, according to the electronic numbers that blared back at him. He guessed that he had been there about two hours.

Frankie whimpered and squirmed a bit closer to him in her troubled slumber. After finally crying herself completely dry, she had finally settled down in an uneasy sleep some time ago, the harrowing events of the day finally getting the best of her. Now Wilt lay down with her on the bed, his long legs overflowing over the end while he still held the miserable girl close with his good arm.

Wilt shivered a bit. Despite the fact that he knew his presence was badly need at this crucial moment, it was still just all too eerily familiar for his liking. It brought back too many memories of those seemingly endless nights. Those all too many times when he would find himself forcibly awoken by the terrified shrieks of a frightened little girl, caught in the grasps of hideous nightmares too awful to be spoken of. Those long, dreary hours of endless lullabies, constant cradling, nonstop reassurances that everything was going to be all right, and the final promise that yes, she could spend the night with him, _again._

As Wilt recalled, his first few months at Foster's weren't exactly the greatest few months of his life. Unfortunately, as dark and dreary as they seemed to him, they were without a doubt at least ten times worse for Frankie. After just recently surviving a car crash in which her parents had been killed right in front of her own eyes, she hadn't exactly been in the best of shape when Madame Foster took her granddaughter from the hospital to her new "home."

To put it more bluntly, she was utterly traumatized by the whole experience. Her days were spent moping about the household or holed up in the relative safety of her room. Her nights were filled with nothing but horrible nightmares, forcing her to relive the horrible accident over and over again every time she went to sleep. Frankie was only three years old, and already her life had spiraled down the tubes into a living hell.

Fortunately however, she wasn't alone in a fight in which the odds seemed to be overwhelmingly stacked against her. Whether it was divine will that they were both to be on that same stretch of road that fateful night, or just an extraordinary stroke of luck for her, he wasn't quite sure. But after just barely snatching the little girl from the jaws of death, he wasn't going to just stand by and lose Frankie to a life of mental anguish right in front of his own eyes. Not while he could do anything about it.

It wasn't easy of course. It was an agonizingly long and painfully slow process. No matter how much her coaxed, no matter how much he cuddled or hugged, no how many times he reassured and comforted, sometimes it felt like nothing would drag Frankie out of her abysmal pit of endless misery. She would immediately run off and hide at the slightest of noises. She would burst into tears as soon as she heard someone put on their car brakes as they drove by outside. And both Wilt and Madame Foster continued to find themselves woken up every night by the most heartbreaking shrieks as the endless parades of nightmares refused to give the child any peace.

But Wilt never gave up. No matter how utterly hopeless it seemed at times, no matter how dead Frankie's responses would seem to be at his numerous daily attempts to bring her back from the grips of a deep depression, he never lost hope that everything would turn out alright. Never once did he lose faith in the little girl's ability to recover.

Wilt knew that had she not survived the initial crash that took her parents, he probably wouldn't have had the will to endure any longer a life spent simply wandering the roads, all alone and constantly possessed by pain and grief. But due to the expected attachment the traumatized little creature now had to her lanky savior, Wilt almost felt like he had been given a second chance with a new child of his own to look after, almost a second lease on life. He had failed Jordan when he was clearly needed the most; he was determined not to do the same with Frankie.

Wilt never stopped his incessant signs of love and affection, never once let up with the friendly smiles, the warm hugs, the soothing cradling, not for a moment did he not let up on his constant attacks on the shell of misery that had encased Frankie in her depression. Every day was a barrage of attempts to show the shell-shocked girl that everything was going to be all right, that she was now in a safe place where people loved and cared for her.

Wilt remembered the day of the breakthrough clearly. It was a few months after he had first arrived at Foster's. It was an unusually pleasant day for mid-March, and he decided to go shoot a few baskets outside. He expected to be alone, as the other imaginary friends for the moment were tending to stay a bit clear of the one oddball newcomer who _wasn't_ focused on getting adopted as soon as possible. And Frankie of course, even though she would tend to toddle after him around the house like a sad puppy, wouldn't dare follow him outside, as there were too many cars there. Or so he expected.

All Wilt knew was that while fetching a ball that had bounced wildly off the backboard, he had been shocked to Frankie outside on the court, holding the ball up politely for him to take. Or at least the toddler that was with him looked like Frankie, for besides that she barely resembled the same little girl Wilt had seen sulking about earlier that morning. _This _Frankie stood up tall, giggled when he thanked her, and demanded in a shrill squeak that Wilt teach her everything he knew about the game she had seen him playing.

He had hardly been able to believe the sudden transformation that took place on that very day, and even to this day the whole thing still mystified him. Just like that, his constant efforts just suddenly seemed to pay off in an instant when Frankie unexpectedly and completely broke completely free from her utter misery. Literally overnight, the doleful little girl who spent her time moping about the hallways ceased to exist completely. Instead, she was suddenly replaced by a giggly, hyperactive redheaded bundle of boundless energy and constant enthusiasm.

Now, instead of sulking in bed, Frankie would forcibly wake up Wilt as early as 6:00 AM, under the pretext that the sun was up again, meaning it was time to play. Rather than run off shyly at a sudden unexpected noise, she suddenly seemed to have transformed into a little daredevil overnight, her favorite made-up game now being "Catch Me Now." Meaning of course, Frankie would jump off of everything she could possibly climb so Wilt would narrowly catch her just inches from splatting against the floor. And now, instead of hiding in the safety of her room, Wilt suddenly found himself fishing Frankie out of the laundry chute, from deep under the sink, and every other nook and cranny she would crawl into during her daily explorations around the house.

Mr. Herriman was practically driven up the wall by her antics and incessant roughhousing.

Madame Foster could barely contain her unbridled glee at the miraculous transformation that had taken place in her grandchild.

And Wilt, despite the shenanigans he had to put up every day with what turned out to be an unexpectedly hyperactive little girl, was perfectly content to have a child to look after as he served as what was more or less her unofficial imaginary friend. Everything seemed to have finally worked out, and the future looked bright and promising.

At least so he thought.

Wilt sighed heavily as he glanced over at the melancholy girl lying by his side. He could hardly imagine the intense grief she was going through. Now, he too was saddened by the fact that Foster's was quite possibly going to be losing it's favorite eight-year-old. But Frankie, he knew she had to be absolutely heartbroken. Wilt could only barely comprehend the extreme emotional pain she must have felt when she heard that Mac's family was dead, or when the boy was taken away, literally ripped out of her very arms and shipped off to some nameless institution which they refused to tell the hysterical girl about. The crushing disappointment she probably experienced when Mr. Herriman just recently flat out refused to let her adopt Mac, the only way she, and basically everyone else at Foster's could possibly get him back.

And if that all wasn't bad enough, Herriman just _had_ to unwittingly reminded her that she too had lost her parents in a horrible car crash in which she very nearly lost her own life. Not good, not good at all.

Now Frankie dozed uneasily by his side, clinging to him tightly as a frightened infant would do to a stuffed animal. It absolutely broke Wilt's heart to see her so distressed. Over the years, watching her grow up from an energetic toddler into a strong-willed, easygoing young woman, Wilt had seen her through plenty of bad times along with all the good times. But he had quite literally not seen Frankie so utterly downtrodden and miserable since she they had first started living at Foster's, when the memory of the accident that took her mother and father was the freshest and most vivid in her mind.

Wilt thought he had seen _enough_ of this, but fate seemed to have a cruel sense of humor. Despite everything she had done, despite all that she had successfully accomplished in her life, Frankie was once again reliving a trauma most hideous. She was losing Mac, the child she adored as the younger brother she never had. She was being forced to step aside as someone she considered her own family was taken away from her. And there didn't seem to be anything she could do to stop the horrible turn of events from taking their brutal toll.

Frankie suddenly whined softly and wriggled some more to get even closer to the imaginary friend in her uneasy slumber. Wilt sighed heavily as he hugged her as tightly as possible, as if only he could somehow shelter the girl from the cruel and merciless world that seemed bent on taking everyone whom she loved away from her.

* * *

For the next two weeks, it seemed as if a cloud of depression had settled over Foster's. It was as if with the loss of Mac, the entire establishment had lost its heart as well. All the house residents were upset by the child's shocking departure from them. However, it was quite obvious some of them were taking the tragic loss much harder than the others. 

It became clear to all the resident friends that while they were all a little stunned and hurt, the sudden loss had absolutely devastated their resident caretaker. With the listless way she now stumbled about, the almost mechanical way in which she performed her daily chores, and the blank, emotionless stare she now always wore, it was like a part of Frankie had simply died the day she lost her "little brother." In just the space of twenty-four hours, the upbeat, easygoing young woman all the friends knew and loved had vanished from their midst. Instead, all they had left was a former shell of the Frankie they had once known, a mere silent shadow who would quietly wander the endless hallways and rooms performing her daily chores. The chores that she now performed with such speed and efficiency, it was as if they were all the girl had left to cling on to the skin of her sanity. The moment Frankie had nothing else left to do for the upkeep of Foster's, she would immediately run off to her room, presumably to sulk, mope, cry, or any combination of the three.

However, if the devastating loss of Mac left Frankie only a fraction of the girl that she used to be, then Bloo was only a fraction of what Frankie was in her practically half-dead emotional state. No longer was Blooragard Q. Kazoo the official House Troublemaker, or Foster's resident miscreant. The hallways and corridors became strangely empty of strange explosions, wild chases, or Frankie's outraged shrieks. Instead, with the loss of his best friend and creator, Bloo had become nothing less than a ghostly remnant of the energetic little blob he once was. Besides his quick appearances at mealtimes, eating only what he needed, he would immediately slink off to odd, God-forsaken corners of the gigantic Victorian mansion, avoiding all contact with others and wanting nothing more to wade in a pool of his own misery.

Besides this new hobby of his, the only other activity Bloo performed now was following Frankie about the house as she did her daily duties, trailing miserably at her heels. Indeed, whenever the pair were spotted together, it was as if they were just part of some bizarre funeral procession, oblivious to everything around them as they tromped about the house in a gloomy death-march.

Dark times had come to Foster's Home for Imaginary Friends.

* * *

"Miss Frances!" Mr. Herriman barked as he hopped along at a brisk pace to keep up with the object of his pursuit. "Miss Frances, please slow down!" 

Frankie however, seemed utterly deaf to his incessant protests to her disobedience. Instead she marched along busily across the foyer floor, drooping shoulders carrying a bucket and old mop, which dragged along behind her. Mr. Herriman groaned in annoyance as he tried to catch up with her, holding on to his hat as he put on an extra burst of speed.

"Miss Frances, please!" he begged. "If I could just have your attention for no less than a-"

"Floors are all swept." Frankie suddenly cut in flatly, neither slowing down nor turning her head.

"Miss Frances, that's not what I meant at all! I do not wish to discuss your caretaking duties at this very moment! I simply want to-"

"Trimmed the hedges too." The girl interrupted again in the same, cold, emotionless tone.

"Miss Frances, this is exactly what I want to talk with you about!" Mr. Herriman cried, his breath coming in ragged gasps. "If you'd only allow me to speak for more than two seconds, I-"

"Gonna get started mopping the kitchen now." Frankie droned. At this, Mr. Herriman finally lost his patience and stomped his foot angrily.

"Now listen here, young lady!" he roared, jabbing his finger furiously at her. "I've had quite enough of this! You will answer me correctly for once, and we will finally-"

"Maybe I'll clean out the fridge if I finish early." Frankie murmured dully, never once slowing her pace.

That was the last straw. The glass monocle popped from his eye and clattered to the floor as Mr. Herriman's eyes bulged in fury. Fully at the end of his rope, he ripped his hat from his head, violently threw it to the floor, and yelled at the top of his lungs,

"FRANKIE FOSTER! STOP!" he bellowed in a rare lapse of conventionality. After this eruption, he leaned over a bit and catch his breath with a few powerful gulps of air. Once he had fully regained his composure, and gathered his belongings from the floor, he finally looked up again to see the results of his furious explosion.

Frankie had finally ground to a halt. For what appeared to be an agonizingly long period of time, the girl simply stood where she was, so deathly silent and immobile it was as if she had simply transformed into a statue, a petrified piece of art to be placed alongside her grandmother's bust. Finally however, her head began to slowly turn in response.

"What?" she groaned wearily.

Mr. Herriman had to stifle a gasp of shock. The girl looked as if she had been to hell and back and then repeated the process an insurmountable amount of times.

Gone was the trademark sparkle in her eyes that symbolized the fiery soul within the young woman. Instead, Frankie stared back stupidly at Mr. Herriman with a dull, glazed look through horribly sunken eyeballs. Ugly gray bags finished the job of sufficiently de-beautifying her jade eyes by sagging heavily underneath, as if the girl had been without a decent amount of sleep for days. Her normally almost perfectly smooth skin was badly marred by the way it now sagged, as if the twenty–two-year-old had suddenly aged thirty years overnight. Her clothes, usually clean and immaculate, were now covered from top to bottom with a diverse variety of blemishes and mysterious stains, making it clear Frankie had stopped caring whether her attire had been washed or not. Even her normally bright red hair, usually adorning her head like a halo of fire, had seemed to had lost it's brilliant sheen; it's dull tone reminded Herriman of the color of rust. Topped off with the way her entire posture drooped uneasily, Frankie resembled more of a zombie than the fiery-spirited redhead he was so familiar with.

For a few moments the rabbit could not help but just stare wordlessly at her absolutely wretched appearance in a mix of shock and disgust. However, true to his nature, he quickly managed to snap himself out of it, quickly getting down to business.

"I'm sorry for the outburst, Miss Frances, but please, it's been so long since I've been able to get such an opportunity. I've barely been seeing you around the house lately and…I…this is the first chance in a while that I…I need to…"

"I'm listenin', Mr. H." Frankie replied dully, oblivious to the way he had just rudely sized up her pitiful condition. Mr. Herriman anxiously fidgeted with his hands as he cleared his throat.

"Well, it's just that…your grandmother is quite worried about you…to be quite honest, the way you simply haven't been yourself lately has put most of our house residents at a great discomfort."

He waited hopefully for an irritated groan or a snappy reply. But instead, all he got in response was a dumb nod.

"So…" Frankie murmured as she began to lean heavily against her mop. With a heavy sigh, Mr. Herriman continued.

"Don't get me mistaken , Miss Frances. I most of all have been quite pleased with the way in which you've been so diligently handling your chores lately, but…"

"The kitchen linoleum isn't gonna clean itself you know." Frankie interrupted in that same cold, mechanical tone of voice.

Mr. Herriman groaned sadly. Oh, how he wished she would simply yell at him for nagging at her again, or even just ignore him completely with a huffy grunt. But now that Frankie was actually being so, well…_obedient, _he actually didn't really know what to say to her. To think that he had been waiting so long for such compliance from her, and now that it was finally here…it almost felt wrong. He took a hard gulp before continuing.

"Miss Frances, please." He begged. "If there's anything we can do to help, please tell us . We don't…_I_ don't enjoy seeing you in such a condition. Please Miss, Frances, for the sake of everyone at the house, if you could just-"

"Could you at least tell me where _he_ is?" Frankie suddenly demanded flatly.

Mr. Herriman gasped. He of all people knew very well who "he" was. In all reality, an imaginary friend of such extensive intellect as himself clearly knew what had been torturing Frankie uncontrollably for the past few weeks, reducing her to the haggard figure who now stood before him. He knew _exactly_ what she wanted to hear. But he couldn't…he just couldn't…yet he had to…

"Miss…Miss Frances, I…" he struggled in vain to get the words out. On seeing him stutter so unnaturally, Frankie actually perked up a little bit.

"Yes?" she asked anxiously, the anticipation on her face revealing the first hint of emotion Herriman had seen on her in days. The rabbit seemed to be choking on his own words as he tried to speak up. He knew exactly what he had to say to make it right, but…

"Miss Frances, I…I'm a gentleman of my word, young lady. And as part of the agreement so as to keep you and Master Blooragard from winding up in jail…I promised the police department and Social Services that I wouldn't tell." He babbled out uncontrollably, hanging his head in shame when he finished.

Frankie stared at him silently for a few brief seconds. Mr. Herriman flinched involuntarily, as if her dull glaze was somehow piercing into his very soul. After a few moments of this treatment though, she quietly turned around and trudged off into the kitchen.

"I should be finished in about an hour." She said quietly before the door closed behind her.

Mr. Herriman groaned wearily as he slapped his forehead.

_Blast it all! Not again! I knew it! I knew exactly what to say! _The somber rabbit mentally grumbled to himself. _I knew just what she wanted to hear. Oh dash it all, who am I fooling? It's the **only** thing she wants to hear. I knew…_

True, he did know exactly what Frankie had wanted to hear, probably the only thing that would possibly bring her back from the edge of insanity she seemed to be wandering dangerously close to. At the sane time, it was also the only thing that would cheer up his own downtrodden creator, thoroughly depressed by the wretched state of her grandchild. Frankly, the whole situation was just all too familiar for Herriman's liking. He knew quite well what they were reliving all over again. If he could just tell Frankie…

But that was precisely the problem; he_ couldn't_. No matter how far Madame Foster's granddaughter seemed to sink in despair, no matter how much his frazzled creator would beg him at night to talk with her, no matter what, he just couldn't do it. He just couldn't let her, much less tell her where Mac even was. True, while not doing so he continued to force Frankie to unwillingly relive the torment of her past along with the emotional stress of the recent tragedy that befell her. Yet somehow, whenever he thought about doing what everyone wished he would do, taking the only action that would benefit everyone, somehow that course of action seemed even _worse._

He couldn't quite fully explain it, but that's the way it was. Doing so would seem like a complete violation of his nature, an infraction of who he was as a unique imaginary friend. He was a gentleman, a man of the rules, an upright citizen of the law who set his watch to all that was considered proper and correct. The rules of the house, the laws of the state, all the rules of proper etiquette, that was what ran his life and helped make him who he was.

Oh, if only he could just break _one_ little rule, just this one time, for the sake of his creator's own flesh and blood!

But no, doing such a heinous act and breaking his word, to the _chief of police_, of all people…it would be like as soon as he did so, he would contradict his own essence and simply cease to exist. How was it that he was able to run an establishment as extensive as Foster's for all these years, managing to keep the house in tip-top shape all this time and everything running smoothly, and yet not even be able to tell a stricken girl about the whereabouts of one child?

Never in his life had he felt so torn. One part of him simply wished to do the _compassionate_ thing, to tell Frankie what she wanted to hear, what was "right". Yet at the same time, the other part of him constantly reminded him to do his _duty_, to keep his promise, to uphold his honor as a gentleman, to follow what the law had dictated to him. In other words, what also was considered "right."

What a paradox his life had become.

The opening of the kitchen doors rudely interrupted Mr. Herriman's train of thought. The rabbit looked up in surprise as Frankie quickly strode out, heading straight in his direction. Almost immediately he took the opportunity to make another attempt to speak to her.

"Miss Frances, I-"

Before he could get much further, Frankie passed right by as she made a beeline for the front door.

"We're outta detergent. Be back in a bit." She announced flatly, and with that the door slammed behind her and she was gone once again.

Mr. Herriman's shoulders sagged wearily as he let out an exasperated groan. Curses, and after all he had said to Madame Foster earlier that morning to ease her worry about her granddaughter. The poor old woman, ever since Frankie's rapid descent into depression, even _she_ was…

He quickly hopped off to his office. Maybe he'd feel better after he did some paperwork.

* * *

You know the drill! Please read and review! 


	12. Falling Apart: Chapter 5

Wow! Thank you all so much for your generous reviews! I usually wait two or three days between posting chapters, but since you guys are all so determined to find out about what happens to Mac...

* * *

Frankie gave a heavy yawn as she struggled to keep her eyes on the road. It had been a while since she had a decent night's sleep, two weeks, to be exact. Since then, she hadn't known a peaceful slumber since.

Now, whenever she went to bed, most of her nighttime hours were spent wide-awake, constantly rolling about restlessly and staring up at the ceiling with baggy, bloodshot eyes. She was never able to relax; all she could do to pass those long sleepless hours was constantly worry and mourn, always fretting about Mac and how he was doing, and incessantly bemoaning the fact he was gone. Whenever her heavy eyelids finally did close shut for a brief couple of hours of uneasy sleep, even then she found no respite from the living tragedy her life had suddenly become. It seemed all she could possibly dream of was poor Mac, shivering with fright, crying out for his friends…crying out for _her_…and alone…all alone…

Suddenly, while trapped aboard her dismal train of thought, the road ahead suddenly began to blur rapidly.

_Oh God, not again. _Frankie thought as an irrepressible sob escaped from her throat. As her eyes suddenly began to water furiously, she hurriedly turned the steering wheel and eased the Foster's bus against a nearby curb. By the time she had put the vehicle into park, the tears were already pouring down her cheeks in tiny rivulets. Quickly she tore the keys from the ignition and dived to the bus floor, so as to avoid being seen in such a pathetic state by passing pedestrians.

Frankie curled up into a trembling little ball and buried her head in her arms while her body was wracked with harsh, uncontrollable sobs. She remained tucked into her little bundle of misery and bawled loudly, like an infant crying for its mother. The girl made no attempt to try and stifle her flamboyant display of utter grief, she stayed as she was and let her woes flood out like water from a bursting dam, Frankie was simply unable to do anything to control the unspeakable anguish that possessed her.

"Mac…oh God…Mac…" she sobbed as she drenched her sleeves with tears.

As absolutely wretched as the pitiful sight was, unfortunately, this was not the first time such a breakdown occurred. In fact, this was exactly why Frankie had been fervently struggling to keep all her attention and energies focused on her duties as resident caretaker. It felt like nearly every time she thought too much of the little eight-year-old, she would be thrown into uncontrollable fits of crippling anguish, where the pain and sadness that she now felt constantly would suddenly overpower her completely, making the young woman as helpless as a newborn baby.

Still weeping uncontrollably, Frankie managed to reach into her sweater pocket and fished about until she found the object of her desire. Removing it with a badly quivering hand, Frankie stared at an old, worn photo and the two figures that adorned it. One of them was her, clearly in a happier time and all smiles as she crushed the second occupant of the picture in a tenaciously warm bear hug. Mac, the other inhabitant of the old Polaroid, meanwhile tried to put on a fake gagging face so as to make it seem as if Frankie had been lovingly choking him when the shot was taken. However, apparently the silliness of the moment had been too much for both of them, and both images smiled back with ridiculously happy grins at the unknown photographer who managed to snatch the golden moment in time.

Frankie was only able to glance at the picture for the briefest of moments before fresh tears blurred her vision again as she elicited heartbroken moan.

"It's n-not fair…it's j-just not f-f-fair..." She managed to choke out before the swirling rage of emotion consumed her again, rendering the girl unable to speak.

She didn't curse fate for taking away Mac's mother and brother in a horrific car accident. God only knows that had all been beyond anyone's control. But even after all this time, Frankie just couldn't stop blaming _herself_ for letting Mac get taken away from _her._

Frankie couldn't care less that she carried no blood relation to the child, or the fact that she had gladly fretted over the child like a mother hen while other girls her age had barely begun to think of marriage. None of that mattered because he was family to her, and likewise she was supposed to be his big sister.

_She_ was supposed to be the one who would gladly fuss over Mac when his mom was too busy with work to look after her youngest son. _She_ was supposed to be the one who would protect the little boy when Terrence picked on him. _She_ was supposed to be the one person who would always be there to happily take him in her arms whenever it felt like the rest of the world was rejecting him for who he was. Frankie was supposed to be that one person who would always love and care for him no matter what, because that was what good big sisters did, and that was all she wanted to do.

That was what _she_ was _supposed_ to do. But if she had really been the model sisterly figure she gladly claimed to be, then why was Mac taken from them in the first place? Why was it she now had no clue where he was? Why was it that she was now bawling like a little girl who had dropped her ice cream cone?

Frankie couldn't help but blame herself for all of it, blame herself for being such a hypocrite in her eyes. For saying she loved the little boy as the brother she never had growing up an only child, then losing him the instant he needed her the most, when she was the only family he had left in the world.

"Pal…I'm s-so sorry …" Frankie moaned unhappily as she covered her face in shame. She didn't care what others thought. In her own eyes, she was nothing but a liar, a hypocrite, a coward, and any other demeaning name she could think of to berate herself with. It didn't matter whether she was exaggerating or not. She had failed in her duty to protect Mac, an atrocity that to her was nothing less than a mortal sin.

"Why? W-why? _Why_?" Frankie implored miserably, looking upwards from the filthy bus floor to the silent heavens. Why her indeed? Why did it feel like everyone she loved had to be taken away from her? Why was she being forced to relive the trauma of her past by being shoved again into this brutal nightmare of sleepless nights, agonizingly long days, and never-ending grief?

Finally, the emotional fit seemed to begin to release its clutches on Frankie. Little by little, the unstoppable flow of tears dried into tiny trickles, and soon she was able to gain control of herself once again. With a sniffle, Frankie rubbed the remaining tears from her puffy red eyes and cleared her vision. She grabbed hold of a nearby bus seat and used it as a support to lift herself to her feet. While she paused to finish the quick recuperation process, Frankie glanced about bitterly out the bus windows at the various passersby.

Every time she spotted a child with its parent or other family member, Frankie had to swiftly suppress the urge to begin bawling all over again. It was almost as if she were losing her mind with grief at this point; it felt like _every_ kid she saw reminded her of _him_.

_Damn mind tricks. _Frankie thought miserably as she continued to stare out blankly at the outside world. _That little kid on the corner looks so much like Mac. And…and that brown-haired one with his mother! Ooooh, and that one in the red shirt, I couldn't sworn it was him, and…_

Frankie glanced across the street and groaned. Okay, maybe every child that crossed her line of vision remotely resembled Mac in some manner, but now it just felt like the heavens were purposely toying with her for nothing but a bit of cruel amusement. She narrowed her eyes bitterly at the small child playing about in the fenced schoolyard just across the road, right outside the town park. Either that child was Mac's clone, or Frankie had finally lost it completely.

_What the hell? Dammit, this just isn't fair! He looks exactly like him! No good little punk, messin' around during his recess…wait, because that IS a school, isn't it? Hold on…_

Frankie squinted her eyes to get a better look. To be perfectly honest, she had never really noticed _that _building before. Despite all her weekly trips to the grocery store, or even all the time she had visited the park literally next door to this peculiar structure, from the times Wilt took her when she was little and whenever she just needed to take a walk, this was honestly probably the first time she had actually stopped to take a good look at it.

It was an old, rectangular redbrick building, composed of about three floors and complete with a blacktop playground and chain-link fence that encircled the entire complex. It looked unsuspicious enough, but Frankie still couldn't help but notice the large stone crucifix that adorned the top of the building's main doorway. What was it, a Catholic school or something? She leaned forward a bit to make out the lettering on its main sign.

"Saint…. Saint Joseph's…_Orphanage_." Frankie read to herself slowly. When she finally understood what she had just said, she gasped and stood back a bit, rubbing her eyes wildly.

_No, no it just can't be. You're just tired, that's all. _Frankie tried to reassure her frazzled self. _It's just a coincidence. You just gotta snap out of it. You just need something to knock you back to your senses, something like...like…_

_SLAP_!

"OW!" Frankie yelped as she furiously rubbed her badly stinging cheek. Perhaps a quick pinch on the arm would've been better than a slap on the face. However, this was no time to argue with herself about the proper manner in which to knock one back to their senses. Frankie now hurriedly pressed her face against a bus window to get a clearer look.

The instant she did so, her eyes bulged and her jaw dropped in complete shock at the sight before her. Her sleep-deprived senses weren't deceiving her for once. Unbelievable as it was, they were actually showing her the real thing, only less than a few hundred yards away. This was no illusion, it really was-

"MAC!" Frankie shrieked in unbridled joy. Immediately she yanked open the bus doors, sprinted onto the sidewalk and ran pell-mell across the street, regardless of the busy traffic. Drivers quickly jammed on their brakes and brought their cars to screeching halts to avoid flattening the young woman against the road. Angry motorists blared their horns furiously as she dodged about and around speeding vehicles. But Frankie didn't care about the chaos she was causing, much less how close she was to unintentionally meeting an untimely demise. She completely shut it all out of her mind and determinedly raced forward towards the orphanage, screaming ecstatically at the top of her lungs,

"Mac! Mac! _MAAAAAC_!"

Mac jumped nearly a foot in the air at the sudden outburst of commotion. He had no idea what was causing the ruckus on the nearby street, but above the deafening horn blasts and curses of angry drivers, the boy was still able to make out an oddly familiar voice screaming his name over and over.

"Huh? N-no," The stunned child whispered to himself while he shook his head furiously in denial. "No, it…it just _can't_ be." Was it just his brain messing with him again? No, it couldn't. Could it?

Finally, after his initial skepticism, he accepted the unbelievable truth; he'd recognize that voice anywhere. It just _had_ to be-

"_FRANKIE_!" he yelled as he turned around and spotted the unmistakable redhead dodge one last vehicle and began an all-out sprint to the tall metal fence that encircled the orphanage. Immediately the boy made a beeline for her, shouting as loudly as he could.

"Frankie! Frankie!"

Frankie finally came to a rather ungraceful stop as she stumbled into the fence. However, despite this clumsy finish, she laughed hysterically in delight as Mac raced furiously to meet her, building up too much momentum and crashing head-on into the metal barrier in his frenzy.

"F-Frankie! Frankie, y-y-you found me!" Mac stammered incredulously, and in an instant the child was completely consumed by tears as he pressed his face against the cold, metal mesh. Giggling uncontrollably, Frankie dropped to her knees and managed to maneuver her lips through the fence links to plant several clumsy kisses against his cheeks.

"Mac! You're okay! Pal, you're okay!" she squealed in delight. For a few minutes they were unable to say much else to each other, as they became completely caught up in the moment that was simply too good to be true for either of them. Mac couldn't hold back the mix of tears and laughter that had overtaken him, and neither could Frankie stop giggling incessantly like a little schoolgirl. The two simply stared happily into each other's eyes for a few blissful moments, Frankie managing to squeeze her fingers through the fence, which Mac gripped onto tightly.

"Mac, I-" Frankie began to choke out. However, before she could get much further, Mac suddenly turned away as some odd noise behind him grabbed his attention. Upon listening intently for a brief moment, the eight-year-old quickly turned back to face Frankie with an expression now horribly distorted by utter terror.

"Frankie, you gotta go!" he cried frantically as he roughly shoved her fingers back through the fence links. "Now!"

Frankie was shocked. She had only been here for a minute or two, after nearly two weeks of agonizing separation. Why was he suddenly so bent on ending their joyous reunion?

"Pal, I don't…" she struggled to express her bewilderment into words.

"Frankie, please!" Mac pleaded desperately as he hurriedly backed off a few steps from the fence. "Go! Now! You just gotta do it!"

"But we just-"

"_FRANKIE_!" he screeched in horror as bloodcurdling howl suddenly rent the air.

Suddenly, Frankie's view of Mac became blocked by some obstruction that appeared on the other side of the fence, an obstruction that was all razor-sharp fangs and claws. Before she could react, the mysterious beast's teeth snagged on to a loose fold of green sweater that had accidentally spilled out a little too much through the fence.

"EEEEEEEEEEK!" Frankie squealed in terror. "Lemmego! Lemmego!" she shrieked, wildly thrashing about with the creature that yanked repeatedly at her sweater.

Finally however, with a savage tear, the thing managed to make off with a large chunk of the girl's right sleeve. The second she was freed, Frankie fell backwards onto her rear and instinctively scuttled away from the danger. As her heart palpitated wildly in her chest, Frankie remained where she sat safely on the cold pavement for a few moments, staring unblinkingly with bulging, saucer-sized eyes at the living horror before her.

At first glance the beast looked like a giant lizard of sort, like a komodo dragon or something of that nature. However, instead of the usual reptilian appendages, its four legs resembled those of a cat's; thin, sinewy, and claws resembling daggers protruding from each of the three fingers adorning every foot. The rest of its body, about the size of an Irish wolfhound, was very much dog-like in shape, and covered in thick, jet-black scales as dark as the night. The thing's head was that of a lizard of some sort. However, whereas most reptiles had two eyes adorning their heads, this thing had but one large, blood red eyeball perched atop a long stalk that disgustingly wiggled about incessantly. Meanwhile, its end was marked with a long, whip-like tail that forked midway into two smaller whips that moved about independently of each other.

The weird, reptile-mammalian-God-knows-what hybrid hissed fiercely at Frankie as it paced back and forth restlessly on its side of the fence, barring razor-sharp fangs at the young woman and every once in a while darting out its long, dark purple forked tongue. Now, only after observing the monstrosity for but a moment, most people would've immediately gotten to their feet and run for their very lives, absolutely convinced that the gates of hell had opened and one of Satan's minions had been let loose upon the world.

Not Frankie, though. She didn't spend most of her life living in a home for imaginary friends without being able to tell an extreme-o-saur when she saw one; and this was undoubtedly one of the dark rejects of the imaginary world.

"W-wh…w-what's…th-_that_?" she whispered softly while pointing with an uncontrollably trembling hand.

Mac's head and shoulders drooped sadly as he explained. "His name's Rex…He used to belong to some kid who came here a while ago, I guess... after that kid was adopted though, he left his imaginary friend here, so…now he's the property of the orphanage."

Frankie turned her head slowly to stare head-on into the child's eyes with a look of mortified disbelief.

"Wait…they…he…"

"No, no, no it's not that!" Mac quickly interrupted. "Please, it's not what you think! The nuns here are very nice, they take real good care of us, I swear! Rex is just like a guard dog, he doesn't bother any of the kids! Honest, he barely even notices us! I promise! He's trained only to make sure no one tries to break in…"

The boy took a hard gulp. "…and I guess keep any of _us_ from breaking out."

Upon finishing his sentence immediately Mac tried to suppress a violent sob, but it was of no use. Despite his best attempts to fight it, within moments he was completely overcome by emotion and swiftly broke down weeping, now shedding his tears in absolute despondency.

"Frankie…" he struggled to whimper between his sobs. "I…I…th-they say someone m-m-might adopt m-me and…b-but I…I don't want t to, I-I don't w-want to be t-taken by someone I..I-I don't even know, because…I…a-and… and…I miss B-Bloo and I just…I-I just…"

He looked straight at her with puffy red eyes. "I want to go _home_." He wailed in despair before burying his face in his hands as he became inconsolable with grief.

Frankie just stared back wordlessly, her expression badly distorted by the intense emotional pain that tore furiously at her heart. Never before in her life had she ever felt so frustrated and helpless. At that very moment, she wanted to do nothing more in the world than to be able to get up from where she sat, gather the weeping little boy in her arms, and simply reassure him that everything was going to be alright, no stranger was going to adopt him, because his big sister was here to make it all better. But alas, despite the fact that she was only five yards away, the tall imposing fence, guarded by the pitch-black demon that continued to eye her warily as it prowled about the other side, hopelessly separated her.

Frankie was the closest she had been to Mac in weeks. Yet paradoxically, at the exact same moment she felt that she had never been farther from him as the frightened child now cried uncontrollably, and she was unable to do a thing about it. The girl sniffled as she could feel her heart ache.

"Pal, c'mon…don't cry…" she made a futile attempt to comfort the grief-stricken child, but alas, mere words were useless. If there was only a way she could get over the fence, if she could just somehow comfort Mac…. suddenly, an idea popped into her head.

"Mac, wait!" she cried as she scrambled to her feet while her hands shot behind her neck. Mac momentarily paused his weeping and cocked his head curiously.

"Frankie, what are you-"

"Catch!" Frankie shouted as she wound up and tossed something over the metal barrier. Rex growled disapprovingly at the alien object coming from the outside, but obediently remained where he stood as Mac leapt into the air and caught it.

"Got it! I got…"

Mac paused to examine the object in awe. The thing in his hands was nothing more than a simple silver chain, just barely big enough to fit around someone's neck. However, despite the piece of jewelry's rather plain appearance, he cradled it so gently in his hands and looked at in such in such wonderment, it was as if he was holding the Holy Grail itself or some other precious relic.

"Frankie…this is…"

"I know, pal." Frankie answered. "It's my mom's old necklace, the one that Grandma gave her."

"B-but Frankie…" Mac stammered in disbelief. "It's…I-I can't-"

"Mac, it's not yours to keep." she announced flatly with a look of dead seriousness. However, as the boy became beset by pained confusion, Frankie's tone quickly softened.

"Hold on pal, hold on." She reassured him tenderly. "It's not yours to keep; it's yours to _borrow_. I just want you to hold on to it…"

Frankie smiled weakly as her eyes began to brim with tears. "…Until I can get you back again."

Mac stared incredulously for a moment, and then hurriedly clutched the old necklace to his chest. "Frankie…you mean…"

"Listen to me Mac." Frankie said softly as she furiously fought back the urge to start crying again, even though a few loose tears had already trickled down her cheeks. "I know things don't look so good. I know you still miss your mom and older brother badly. I know that you're in a strange new place, I know you probably feel alone and scared, and you're frightened about might happen next."

The girl paused momentarily to bite down hard on her lower lip, swiftly suppressing a harsh sob that tried to unsuccessfully escape from her throat. Frankie waited a few moments until it subsided, then continued speaking to Mac as comfortingly as her delicate emotional state would allow her to.

"But whatever happens to you, no matter how you feel, you gotta remember this; you're _not _alone. You have Bloo, your imaginary friend, and you have Wilt, Ed, Coco, Madame Foster, and everyone else back at Foster's. But most importantly," she added with a sniffle, "You still have your big sister. And no matter what everyone else may say or think, she still loves you very much, and she's never going to stop trying until the day she can take you back _home_, to your _family_."

At this point the tears were pouring unchecked down the sides of her face, as they were similarly cascading down Mac's already tearstained cheeks. For a few moments, neither one could manage to say a single thing, and they just stood in painful silence, silently weeping as they stared into each other's eyes.

"I…I-I love you, Frankie." Mac managed to croak.

"I love you too, pal. I love you too." Frankie replied in a hoarse whisper.

For a few more awkwardly depressing moments they continued as they were. Finally however, Rex was pushed to the limits of his patience by the unreasonable time the redheaded intruder had managed to stay without being frightened off by him, and angrily the reptilian extreme-o-saur began to growl and hiss at the young woman, baring his fangs threateningly and displaying his wickedly sharp claws.

"I…I think you gotta go." Mac spoke barely above a whisper. "I don't think the nuns would like seeing you here."

With that he quietly began to back away, hugging the precious necklace close to himself. Frankie wordlessly blew a soft kiss to the misery-stricken child before she quickly whirled about and sprinted furiously back to the Foster's bus across the street.

The situation was still extremely dire. Mac was still up for adoption, which meant a new family could take him away any day now, regardless of how nightmarish the very idea was to him of all people. Mr. Herriman was still brazenly unwilling to allow his sole employee to suddenly take complete charge of an eight-year-old child on top of her full-time job. To top it all off, Frankie's emotional state right now was still less than fragile.

But despite such overwhelming odds, she now at least knew where Mac was. And this was more than enough to keep her flickering hopes alive.

_Besides,_ she thought as she clambered onto the brightly colored bus. _How could things possibly get any worse than this?_

Thank you all for you support!

* * *

Please, read and review! 


	13. Falling Apart: Chapter 6

Thank you all so much for your reviews! Cheeseisawesome, azuretears, luckyrocks73, Bordest Person Alive, and SpotlessLadybug, THANK YOU! Thank you for all the support!

Here we go, yet another chapter comin' right at ya!

Disclaimer: I do not own Foster's Home for Imaginary Friends.

* * *

"Hello?" 

No response.

"Frankie, you in there?"

Silence.

"Will you please open the door?"

Still no reply. With a groan, Wilt ceased knocking on Frankie's door and leaned heavily against the wall. Where was she? He hadn't seen her around the house, and according to the other friends, no one had really spotted her in the last two hours or so. Well, if she wasn't doing her chores, then she just had to be in her room, didn't she?

"Ugh…so _not_ okay." Wilt murmured to himself. He thought he had seen the worst of it the day Mac had been taken from her, and she spent the rest of her waking hours that fateful day completely consumed by tears. But the way Frankie was acting lately, like she was a double in some cheap, low-budget zombie movie, Wilt just didn't like it. He didn't like it at all.

What had become of the Frankie he knew and loved? Had the loss of Mac really set her back emotionally _nineteen years_? Did all those memories he had, all those wonderful times, did they mean nothing now? All those bedtime stories when she was little? The endless games of hoops out back on the basketball court? The long hours he put in helping her with her house duties? As much as Wilt hated to think it, the answer seemed to come back as a resounding _yes_. Frankie seemed to be nothing more than a traumatized wreck with the tragic loss of her beloved "little brother."

But if she had been reduced to nothing, then what of his other friend? What about Bloo? At least Wilt was still able to spot Frankie on a normal basis around Foster's, and she would still even allow him to help her out from time to time with her chores. But, besides rare appearances at mealtime once or twice a day, Bloo seemed to have vanished from their lives completely. It was as if without the presence of his best friend and creator, he simply couldn't exist on his own.

_Poor little guy_, Wilt thought sympathetically. The kind-hearted friend wanted nothing more than to at lease give the heartbroken little creature a couple of reassuring words, or a comforting pat on the back. But heck, if he couldn't even find him to start out…

Before he had time to finish his thought, a mysterious passerby rushing down the hallway ran smack into his long, skinny legs.

"Whoa!" the middle-aged woman cried in surprise as she bounced back and lost her balance. Before she could topple over completely however, the fast thinking Wilt quickly grabbed her by the arm and set her back on her feet.

"Oh no! I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" He apologized profusely as he steadied the stranger back on solid footing. "I'm so sorry! Are you okay?" he asked concernedly.

The woman just smiled gratefully and chuckled at his over-polite mannerisms. "Oh, I think I'll be alright."

"Are you sure? Oh I'm sorry! I shouldn't have been standing right-"

"Stop, enough already!" the woman said, her shoulders shaking in laughter. "No please, I'm the one to blame, I didn't see where I was going, um, Mr…"

"Wilt. My name's Wilt." He said, giving her a warm smile.

"Please to meet you Wilt, my name is Alicia Brown." The woman replied as she shook his hand. "Sorry, I'm just here with my husband today, and I was just trying to find him after I accidentally wandered off on my own. Such a massive place, I never thought I'd find my way out! Anyhow though, we have a five-year-old son, see, and-"

"Oh! You're here to adopt an imaginary friend!" Wilt cried enthusiastically. "Good for you! Don't worry, Foster's is the best, we have some awesome friends here! C'mon, I think some of the guys are just down the hallway. We've got Shaky, Rosco, Crackers, Cockamamie Amie…"

However, as Wilt tried to lead Mrs. Brown off, the mother just stood rooted where she stood, still gripping tightly to Wilt's hand, smiling broadly.

Maybe a little too much for Wilt's comfort.

"Um, Mrs. Brown? Sorry, but if you'll just come with me, we can go look-"

"To be honest; I don't think that'll be necessary." She interrupted while still grinning eerily.

Wilt swallowed hard as she began to lead him downstairs.

* * *

"…and he's so polite, and kind, and friendly, and oh so helpful…" Mrs. Brown babbled on to her husband, a skinny, balding man who grinned in delight at everything that she said. As the woman went on and on, Mr. Herriman nodded sagely from his chair behind his desk. 

"Yes, yes, Master Wilt here possesses many admirable qualities. Truly a model friend! Why just last week…"

In the midst of all the excitement that was going on in the office, Wilt just stood in the background, mouth open, eyes as wide as dinner plates, completely stunned by it all. He groaned a bit while he rubbed his temples. He suddenly seemed to have grown extremely light-headed in the last few minutes.

_What's wrong with me? _He thought worriedly. _I'm getting adopted. I'm going to finally have a family, and a kid, after all these years! I'm going to get a home! This is every abandoned imaginary friend's dream! I'm getting it all! I'm…I'm…_

Wilt stopped and rubbed his head while a brief dizzy spell overtook him. No, wait, what was he thinking? _Finally _getting a new family? Finally getting a new home? Finally getting a new child?

No, that was wrong. That was all wrong.

He had had all of that the moment he came to Foster's.

Wilt sat down on the floor, trying to make a sense out of it all, completely oblivious to the people chatting busily around him. An incredible feeling of panic began to rise up from deep within as Wilt realized the awful truth. He didn't _want_ to be adopted. He wanted to stay here, at Foster's. At his home, with his friends. With his _family_.

He couldn't do this. Wilt was finally getting adopted, and it all just felt so wrong.

_No, I can't! I just can't! What am I doing? I shouldn't be here! I need to tell them! I need to tell them the truth! I already have a home! I already have friends! I already have a child, I have Fra-_

"Master Wilt?" Mr. Herriman's thick British accent cut in, immediately scattering his thoughts. Wilt looked up wearily at the large rabbit and the happy couple.

"Well, Master Wilt, this is certainly been quite a day! It seems your record-breaking time here at the house is finally coming to a well-deserved end, wouldn't you say? I've discussed the matter with the Browns…"

"_Tell them. Tell them now." _A voice in Wilt's head whispered.

"…and they think you to be quite the specimen that they're looking for in a suitable friend…"

_"What are you doing? Say it. No. That's all. No. Just do it". _The subconscious voice spoke up a little louder.

"…however, after clearly going over the whole matter…" Mr. Herriman droned on.

"_NO! NO! FOR THE LOVE OF GOD! SAY IT! YOU DON"T WANT TO GO! NO! _the voice shrieked. Wilt took a deep breath as he tried to get the words out. Just one little word, that's all it was. If he could just…say…that…word…

"…they've decided for now that they wish to discuss the whole situation a bit further among themselves and with their son tonight in the comfort of their own home. They will then return here by late tomorrow afternoon, and give us their final answer. Of course, I don't think there's too much need to worry. Would that be all right?"

"N-n…n-n-n…" Wilt struggled in vain. Just one word! Just that one…

"Okay." He finally said, lowering his head in defeat.

_"You coward…"_ the voice whimpered sadly as it faded away.

"Excellent!" Mr. Herriman cheered.

"Oh I'm sure Brendan will be thrilled, I'm sure of it!" Mrs. Brown laughed.

Mr. Brown nodded his head silently in agreement.

Wilt just groaned.

* * *

"We'll be looking forward to your return! Goodbye, we shall be seeing you tomorrow!" Mr. Herriman shouted as he waved merrily to the car that pulled away. Wilt stood next to him, head and shoulders slumped in anguish. Oh God, what just happened? 

"What's all the fuss, Bunny?" someone asked from behind. Mr. Herriman turned and nodded respectfully with a grin to the tiny old woman who hobbled into the foyer.

"Wonderful news, Madame Foster! Simply wonderful news! You'll never believe who's finally going to be adopted!"

"Really? Who?" Madame Foster replied curiously as she cocked an eyebrow.

"Why, our own Master Wilt, after all these years!" Mr. Herriman laughed delightedly, not noticing the shock that appeared on her face. "To think, after all this time, he's finally being adopted by-"

"WHAT?"

The three looked up in shock in the direction of the sudden shriek of outrage and horror. Frankie stood silently in the doorway, staring aghast at Mr. Herriman and the unthinkable words she had just come from his mouth.

"Miss Frances!" Mr. Herriman cried in surprise. Quickly he noticed the massive tear now adorning her ragged right sweater sleeve. "Good heavens, child! What on earth…"

"W-Wilt." Frankie jerked her head shakily in the direction of the lanky imaginary friend. "Did…d-did Mr. Herriman just say…"

"I..I-I…" The gangly imaginary friend muttered dumbly, burning with shame as he watched her face contort with incredible horror.

"No…n-no, please…don't…don't tell me that-" she begged shamelessly.

Wilt just shook his head sadly. "Frankie…I'm…I-I'm sorry."

Stunned beyond belief, for a few moments she just stood speechless and still as a statue as the unthinkable truth slowly began to set in, whiles the others just stood by, unsure of what to say or do as they read the unmistakable pained shock in her expression.

Frankie suddenly moaned as the color rapidly began to drain from her face. Suddenly, she felt extremely dizzy with intense shock and quickly latched onto the door for support. She couldn't believe what happened, just seconds before she returned home. Not Wilt, not after losing Mac, they just _couldn't_. Not to her, not after all that she had been through.

"Oh my goodness!" Madame Foster cried as she noticed that her ashen-faced granddaughter began to shiver violently. "Frankie, are you-"

"No…this can't…this just can't…" Frankie murmured incredulously. What was happening? The room seemed to be spinning before her very eyes.

Wilt gasped. "Frankie-"

"This isn't…happening." Frankie managed to mutter to herself.

"Excuse me?" Mr. Herriman asked as her panic skyrocketed.

"This isn't happening…this isn't happening…oh God, this isn't happening…" Frankie began to chant to herself repeatedly as she clung on tightly to the door, her body trembling violently and her legs wobbling dangerously beneath her.

"Dear, please." Madame Foster said softly as she tried to approach her granddaughter slowly, quickly realizing that the poor thing was on the verge of a breakdown. "Just calm down-"

"DAMMIT, THIS ISN'T HAPPENING!" Frankie screeched in a tone that would've made a banshee's wail sound like a chorus of angels. With another heartbroken shriek she let go of the door and shot out into the rapidly waning sunlight, tearing off to no particular destination in her hysteria. She just had to get away from it all; she just couldn't take any more of the pain, the anguish, and the loss of everything that she loved.

Breathing in ragged gasps, she sprinted madly onto Foster's extensive property out back.

"No, wait, please!" Wilt cried, running out after her. "Frankie, come back!"

"Miss Frances, contain yourself!" Mr. Herriman yelled as he speedily hopped out behind the lanky imaginary friend.

An incredibly stunned Madame Foster incredulously watched them race off for a few moments, and once they vanished form sight she simply bowed her head with a heavy sigh.

* * *

Tears pouring down her face, Frankie ducked behind the unicorn stables and threw herself on top of a pile of hay with a bitter sob. Curling up in a little ball, she buried her face in her hands and wept unashamedly as she was completely overwhelmed by crippling grief. 

Was her life nothing more than a living nightmare? She just couldn't believe it. Hadn't the heavens had enough tormenting her? Would the higher powers not be satisfied until they robbed her of everyone she loved?

"It's n-not fair. He's mine. He's m-m-my imaginary friend. He's mine." Frankie whispered repeatedly to herself between the sobs that wracked her body, as if that would somehow make it all better. Not Wilt, _her_ Wilt. It just wasn't fair, he was _her_ imaginary friend, he had looked after her for as long as she could possibly remember. For God's sake, he was the only reason she was even alive today. Did it not mean anything that he saved her life? Were no bonds sacred?

Frankie howled in unspeakable anguish. It was all just too much to bear. She just couldn't handle any more losses; she simply couldn't take any more pain. Frankie didn't know whether she wanted to cry some more, faint, be sick to her stomach, or just crawl into a hole and-

Suddenly she felt her belly do a violent flip-flop. As she began to gag uncontrollably, it quickly became obviously what her next course of action was. Without thinking twice, Frankie turned her head and threw up into the hay, puking up more half-digested food then she thought her stomach was capable of holding. After she finally emptied her burning gut of all its contents, she simply collapsed helplessly in a heap back into the hay pile, regardless of the fact she was now lying in a pool of her own vomit.

It just didn't matter anymore. In just a matter of weeks, she had lost Mac, and now she was loosing Wilt. Two of her best friends…no, two of her _famil_y were being taken away, and there was absolutely nothing she could do about it. Shivering uncontrollably, Frankie shut her eyes tightly and she let her grief-wracked body go limp as the pure shock overwhelmed her. Never in her entire life had she felt so utterly helpless, and just so completely-

Frankie suddenly squeaked in surprise when she sensed what felt like cold metal being gently placed against her lips.

"Here, drink this." Someone told her softly, as she felt a tiny arm wrap around her head and push it up slightly so as to put her in a better position to swallow. Frankie quickly allowed the mysterious Good Samaritan to take charge, and before she knew it an unmistakable stream of cool, sweet life-giving water was flowing down freely her throat. Sure it, it was probably just a metal cup filled with trough water from inside the unicorn stable. But Frankie didn't care, she was desperately thirsty, and it did wonders in cooling her badly burning throat. After gulping down the sweet sustenance in heavy gulps, the old tin cup was fully emptied and tossed aside.

Frankie finally opened her eyes to get a good look at her savior. However, weak as she was, she was only able to do so at an arduously slow process, and the fact that the sun had pretty much set did not help her now badly blurred vision, momentarily incapacitated by crippling emotional weakness and the tears that flooded her eyes. However, she managed to at least make out the basic shape of the compassionate soul. Who was that? Wilt? No, this guy was _way_ too short for that, and was oddly shaped like a door of some sort…

"Bloo?" Frankie asked incredulously in a soft whisper as comprehension dawned upon her.

The small, blue imaginary friend frowned sadly as her gently rocked the grief-stricken girl's head in his tiny arms. He had clearly gotten no better since he despair had driven him into complete seclusion a few days before, and was so pale he was barely the shade of his namesake anymore. Despite this, he dutifully stayed by her side and attempted tot end to her.

"I…I was, um…hangin' around in one of the empty stalls…and I heard you outside. I only watched saw you for a moment before you collapsed so thought maybe that…you kinda needed some…y'know…" the embarrassed little creature tried to stammer out in a hoarse whisper.

Frankie still shivered uncontrollably. "B-Bloo." She stuttered out softly, a badly shaking arm reaching up to his shoulder. "I-I-I…they're g-gonna…"

"What?" Bloo asked concernedly, cradling her like a mother would an infant.

"It's all over." The girl managed to whimper. With that her eyes rolled into the back of her head as she fainted away in a heap.

* * *

"H-how is she?" Wilt stammered as Madame Foster hobbled out of her granddaughter's bedroom. The old woman sighed painfully. 

"She's still not looking too well, but at least she's resting." She said wearily. "There's not much we can do except let her sleep and hope she's feeling better in the morning."

"C-can I…can I…I'm s-sorry, but c-c-can…" the over-polite imaginary friend stuttered uncontrollably in his deep worry. Madame Foster gave him a wan smile.

"If it makes you feel better, dear." She said with a weak chuckle.

"Th-thank you." Wilt murmured as he quickly stepped around her and slipped into Frankie's room. Bloo wordlessly followed at his heels, but Madame Foster made no objection to the little blue imaginary friend's unauthorized entrance. She simply closed her eyes and bowed her head, sighing heavily again as the door was shut behind her.

All the while, Mr. Herriman anxiously stood nearby, wringing his hands nervously as he frowned concernedly at his creator.

"Madame, is there anything I can-"

"How could you?"

"What?"

"Herriman, how could you do such a thing?" Madame Foster demanded, almost accusingly. Mr. Herriman gave a hard gulp. She almost _never_ called him by his proper name. She was definitely not pleased with something.

"What? What are you taking about? Madame, I simply-" he tried to respond as Madame Foster lifted her head and stared him straight in the eyes. Mr. Herriman flinched under the weight of her piercing glare and immediately stopped himself in mid-sentence.

"Now don't start giving me any of that infernal claptrap!" she said sternly, waving her cane at him. "You know very well that Wilt's like family to Frankie! How could you just adopt him off like that and not even think twice about it? Why-"

"Madame Foster, _please_!" Mr. Herriman snapped angrily. "If you haven't forgotten, that is the exact mission of our establishment! You are in no position to simply blame me for doing my _job_! If we simply kept every friend we took a fancy to and never let a single one be adopted, then the entire system-"

"Enough!" Madame Foster shouted angrily in reply. "When did I say that? When did I say _that_?"

"I knew exactly what you were thinking!" her imaginary friend barked furiously. "Don't lie, I know precisely how your mind works! As soon as a particular friend catches your eye, you go off and wave rules left and right, the very principles that keep Foster's afloat!" he growled, clenching his gloved hands. "I know exactly what you're going to say! You-"

"Catches my eye? _Catches my eye_?" the old woman bubbled in rage. "Does "saved Frankie's life" mean anything to you? Does "helped raise her since she was three" have any significance? Hmm? He's not nothing but look after her since they've started living here, and it's all either of them have ever wanted! Maybe if you weren't so busy going about "business as usual" and actually stopped to _think_ about what you were doing, or at least notice for once that-"

"Madame, you can not sway me by merely appealing to my emotions!" Mr. Herriman growled and jabbed a finger at her angrily. "It's my sworn duty! This is _our_ duty! This is our purpose! This is-"

"Those are the rules and regulations that you blindly live your life by!" Madame Foster yelled. "If you'd just get your nose out of all your rulebooks and look around once in a while…"

"This is our mission! Foster's Home for Imaginary Friends was founded to shelter _all_ abandoned imaginary friends that come to our door until they are _all_ _adopted_! WE CAN'T JUST PICK AND CHOOSE WHO GOES AND WHO STAYS! WHY CAN'T YOU JUST FOLLOW THE RULES OF YOUR OWN HOUSE?" Mr. Herriman shut his eyes and bellowed at the top of his lungs.

He was so overcome a rage, it took the enrage rabbit a while to realize that there had been no reply to his last ferocious outburst. Cautiously opening one eye, he quickly beheld a small, elderly lady who was a far cry from the furious gray-haired little bundle of fury that had been shrieking at him not two minutes earlier. Madame Foster's bottom lip quivered as a tear welled up in her eye.

"Rules…it's always about the rules, isn't it?" she murmured softly. Without so much as a second glance she simply turned about and began to slowly hobble off down the hallway, sadly muttering to herself.

"It's a rule that Wilt has to go…it's a rule that a twenty-two-year old can't adopt…just more rules…rules, rules, rules…" she whispered softly to herself.

Mr. Herriman only looked on in utter confusion. What was this? He had been expecting another snappy reply, or even an announcement of another exception she was going to make to her own establishment's rules, whether he liked it or not (as in the case of Bloo.) What he had _not_ been expecting was this sudden complete and total surrender.

This wasn't like her at _all_. Where was the fiery-spirited Foster he had looked after since she was five? What happened to the little old woman with vitality and energy of most women a third of her age? What was going on?

"Madame?" he asked her gently. "Madame, what-"

The old woman stopped her retreat long enough to turn her head and give him a look eerily reminiscent of a condemned criminal being lead off for execution.

"There's a difference between what's "proper" and what's _right_ you know." She said with a sniffle. With that she immediately went off her way, shoulders sagged and head bowed.

Her imaginary friend stood petrified in place, eyes wide open as the simple words hit home.

"_What's "proper"…and what's "right."_

_Well yes, I suppose maybe I…no, no I can't! Wait…why not? No, no! I can't keep making these such wild exceptions whenever the Madame says so! I have to be firm! It would be anarchy if we never followed the proper rules and precautions! It would never work out! It wouldn't be...it wouldn't…_

…_it wouldn't be proper._

Usually as neat and orderly as his office, Mr. Herriman's mind was suddenly now a mad whirl, an utter mass of chaos as a plethora of convictions, notions, opinion, and a thousand other different thoughts raced freely about his brain.

The old rabbit groaned as he slapped his forehead irritably. Grumbling to himself, he hopped off in the direction of the nearest staircase. With all the serious contemplation he had ahead, he might as well make himself a cup of tea in the kitchen.

Something told him it was going to be a _long_ night.

* * *

You guys know what to do! 

Please read and review!


	14. Falling Apart: Chapter 7

Thanks again, everyone! I'd like to thank Bordest Person Alive, luckyrocks73, cheeseisawesome, azuretears, Chipsie the sleek tabby cat, tervaco, and S-A. Thank you so much, guys!

Okay, now here we go again!

Disclaimer: I do not own Foster's Home for Imaginary Friends

* * *

"Do you want anything, dear? Some toast? A piece of fruit?" Madame Foster asked encouragingly. Frankie stared back dully with baggy eyes and just shook her head wordlessly as she took a small sip of orange juice. 

It was breakfast time at Foster's. As usual, the dining room was abuzz with commotion as house residents chatted, horsed about with each other, or focused intently on gobbling down their morning meal. However, unlike most mornings, this breakfast had not been prepared as part of the daily routine of the resident caretaker. Rather than take any chances with her still-frazzled granddaughter, Madame Foster had awoken especially early to prepare everything herself. However, the fact that she had to wake up two hours early was the last thing on the old woman's mind as she struggled to get a response out of Frankie, who had just wearily stumbled in to breakfast only ten minutes before.

"Oh, c'mon!" Madame Foster coaxed warmly with a weak grin. "Look! I made pancakes, your favorite! Wouldn't you like just one bite of-"

"No thanks, Grandma." Frankie mumbled, fidgeting with her glass of juice. Her grandmother's smile flipped into a worried frown as she settled back in her chair.

"Frankie, please. You had a nasty shock last night; you need to keep up your strength. Now why don't you-"

The old woman suddenly went silent at the sound of the kitchen doors swinging open, followed by the sounds of an unmistakable dignified hop.

"Good morning, Madame, Miss Frances." Mr. Herriman addressed them politely.

Frankie didn't even make an effort to look up, and kept her dull gaze fixated on the table. Madame Foster however clasped her hands and eagerly gazed up at her imaginary friend.

"Well?" the old woman asked hopefully.

"I, um…well, I…I…" the old rabbit struggled to speak.

"Yes?" she asked again with an optimistic twinkle in her eye. Mr. Herriman paused for a moment, took a deep breath, then bowed his head solemnly as he declared,

"…I am a man of my word, Madame Foster. The meeting with the Brown Family shall go ahead this afternoon as scheduled."

With that he quickly turned around and hastily exited the dining hall, before his shocked creator even had a chance to reply.

Frankie didn't utter a word a word of protest. With a soft whimper, she quickly got up from her seat and clumsily grabbed a few empty plates, sending a few pieces of silverware clattering and spilling a large bowl of fruit in the process. Murmuring something under her breath about getting started with breakfast clean-up, she took her haphazard pile and hurriedly exited into the kitchen, while desperately trying to hold back the tears that welled up in her eyes.

Wilt sadly watched her dash off into the kitchen from his usual seat between Coco and Eduardo. With an unhappy moan, he slumped dejectedly into his chair, his head bowed in defeat.

It was no use to say anything. He knew when they had been beaten.

* * *

Frankie dropped her load next to the kitchen sink in a chaotic pile with a loud clattering and quickly rolled up her sleeves. At first glance, she appeared to be unusually eager to get to her morning chores. 

_Plug up the sink…turn on the hot water…that's it, that's good…you can do this, Frankie…grab the sponge…_

With a badly trembling hand, she picked up one of the dirty plates and placed it under the running water. Yes, that was it. Drown her misery in her work, get it off her mind. If she could just focus on her chores, blot out the grief-

"F-Frankie?"

"EEEEK!" Frankie shrieked as she felt a tiny hand gently prod the back of her leg. Dropping the plate she held in her hand and letting it break on the counter with a terrific smashing clamor, she whirled about, her expression a mix of grief and panic that someone would see her in such a state.

"WHAT?" she screeched loudly with clenched fists and tightly shut eyes. At the sound of the gentle whimper however, her eyelids snapped open as she got a good look at her visitor.

The stack of plates and glasses Bloo carried wobbled furiously in the little creature's shaky grip, as the wreck of an imaginary friend shivered uncontrollably. With a hard gulp, he lifted up his pile to the girl like it was a bizarre peace offering of some sort.

"I-I-I thought maybe…t-that you wanted some-"

Bloo didn't get a chance to finish; Frankie had dropped to her knees and swept him into a tight hug, regardless of the fact that this caused him to drop his pile with an ear-splitting shatter. She wept unashamedly as she gripped Bloo tightly to her trembling body, while warm salty tears poured unchecked down her face. Almost immediately Bloo capitulated to his own overwhelming grief, bawling along with her in unison and returning her squeeze. The two clung to each other miserably, as if the heat from their bodies would warm each other's cold, broken hearts.

They were loosing everything. And there wasn't a thing that could be done about it.

* * *

"Now then, if you'll both step in my office." Mr. Herriman instructed in his prim and proper manner, holding the door open politely for the couple. 

"Oh, thank you so much! You really shouldn't!" Mrs. Brown beamed happily as she and her husband strode into Mr. Herriman's office. "I think you've done more than enough for us already."

"Oh, nonsense!" Mr. Herriman guffawed, keeping up the polite and friendly banter. "At Foster's, it is our duty to assist such families as kind and decent as your own. Isn't that right, Master Wilt?" he nodded curtly in the direction of the lanky imaginary friend.

Wilt barely looked up as his head and shoulders sagged heavily in defeat. "Yeah, sure is." He mumbled softly, his reply barely above a whisper.

"Oooooh, there he is!" Mrs. Brown cooed in delight, rushing over and wrapping her arms around his knees in a quick hug. Wilt swiftly had to suppress the strong urge to recoil in disgust.

He didn't want to leave his home. He didn't want to leave his friends, or his family for that matter. He didn't want to be adopted. But after being Mr. Nice Guy all these years, voluntarily upholding Foster's concept of the ideal imaginary friend…did he really have a choice? He gave a hard swallow and quickly blinked back what felt like a tear welling up in his eye. No sense in crying about it. He might as well face the facts.

"Now then, if you two would just seat yourselves here, we'll attend to business in just a moment." Mr. Herriman nodded politely before cupping his hands around his mouth. "Miss Frances! Miss Frances! Have you-"

"All set." Came the somber reply from the hallway. Frankie slowly trudged in, stumbling along in the manner of an injured soldier limping across a battlefield. Head bowed, shoulders sagging, the miserable girl plodded in at an arduously slow rate, with Wilt's file clutched tightly in her hands.

"Here you go, Mr. H." she mumbled sadly, unceremoniously dropping it in front of the rabbit and taking her customary place at his side. She kept her gaze focused on the floor rather than the two very prospective parents, the ones who were very much intent on taking "her" imaginary friend away. However, Frankie did look up for a brief moment to glance at Wilt, who stole an equally pathetically sad glance in her direction. The two forlorn figures' eyes met for a brief moment before they both looked away, resigned to their fates. They already were powerless enough as it was, no need to drag it out and make things any worse than-

"My deepest apologies, but I do believe that there's been quite a misunderstanding." Mr. Herriman said rather bluntly, arms folded neatly across his desk. Frankie and Wilt's heads shot up in shock as the Browns gave Mr. Herriman looks of complete bewilderment.

"Wait, _what_?" a confused Mr. Brown asked, scratching his head in puzzlement.

"Um, I'm not sure that I quite understand what-" his wife tried to say before Mr. Herriman quickly cut her off with a wave of his hand.

"Please! Please! There's absolutely no need. Let me assure you, there has been no trouble caused on your part. Believe me, the blame rests entirely with myself." He proclaimed quite firmly, before letting his hand fall into his lap and out of sight.

"But we don't understand-"

"My most sincere apologies, but I'm afraid Master Wilt can _not_ be adopted into your care." Mr. Herriman put rather bluntly.

The prospective parents' faces fell.

Wilt's jaw dropped in shock.

And Frankie's eyes looked like they were going to bulge completely out of her sockets.

"Once again, the blame is all mine." Mr. Herriman quickly went on in his usual proper, businesslike tone. "This is all by no means any fault of yours. I wish I could say otherwise, but it seems we have all been the victims of a simple piece of misfiled paperwork."

"Wait, paperwork?" a disappointed Mrs. Brown inquired with a confused frown. Mr. Herriman chuckled nervously before he went on.

"Ha ha, um, yes. Yes indeed. And to think I pride myself on my perfect filing system, or at least what I thought was perfect. Strangest thing really, it happened only a little less than an hour ago before you two arrived just now. I was sorting through a pile of paperwork, some rather routine busywork, when I happened to come across Master Wilt's already filled-out and _signed_ adoption form." He said, putting a rather odd emphasis on the word "signed."

"What? How on earth-" Mr. Brown tried to ask before Mr. Herriman continued on.

"Yes, wouldn't you believe it? You see, yesterday was a rather unusually busy day here at Foster's, an utter plethora of adoptions kept us busy around the clock…"

A very stunned Frankie shot her employer a completely baffled look. She knew very well that Wilt's case was the only thing close to an adoption that happened yesterday. What was going on?

It was at this point she realized that Mr. Herriman, usually the model of perfection and poise, had certainly started to tremble a bit in unmistakable anxiety. Not much, but noticeable enough for her at least to spot as she stood next to him.

"…and it seems that we had so many families coming in and out, adopting so many friends, well to be quite truthful at the end the whole process simply became a blur. So weary was I, in fact, that by the time you two showed up at our doorstep and chose the resident of your desire…" Mr. Herriman cleared his throat nervously and paused a few moments to regain his composure. "…that I was too tired to realize that you had in fact picked an already-adopted friend."

"_Already_-adopted?" a very flustered Mrs. Brown cried indignantly. "But we…but how…"

"Again, my deepest regrets for the terrible misunderstanding that has taken place here." Mr. Herriman continued with a weak grin. "I myself was quite horrified upon finding Master Wilt's already _signed_ adoption form shortly ago."

_There he goes again!_ Frankie thought, raising an eyebrow at his insistent and peculiar emphasis on that word. _What on earth…_

"However, shortly after that unpleasant discovery, my old memory finally caught up with me, and at this point I now clearly recall the events of yesterday. A small girl did in fact adopt Master Wilt, quite early yesterday morning as I remember. However, as I do recall, her timing in doing so was quite unfortunate, as right when the paperwork was signed, her father received a most awful phone call on his cellular phone, informing him that the girl's grandmother had just been rushed to the hospital with some nasty affliction. Terrible business really." He said, shaking his head sadly. "And so because of that, they had to leave rather abruptly, so much that they weren't even able to take Master Wilt along with them. However, before they did leave, we promised them that we would of course keep Master Wilt on hold for her, and so we did when we filed away the already completed and _signed _adoption form."

It was at that point that Frankie finally noticed the peculiar feeling of something being shoved rather forcibly against her unmoving hand. Wordlessly, she let her eyes travel downwards until much to her surprise, she found that it was Mr. Herriman acting as her culprit, and with one hand hidden securely by the desk he incessantly prodded a piece of paper against her limp palm. How long he had been doing that for, she had no idea, but it was clear by the way his prim manner was deteriorating by the second, he was clearly close to breaking point.

"And s-so, shortly afterwards, we just became so swamped with adoptions, Master Wilt being the p-particularly compassionate fellow t-t-that he is, began to assist Miss Frances and I with the s-sudden overwhelming amount of work to be done, and by the end of the d-d-day, we…uh, well we were just so weary by that point, um…not even Master Wilt himself possessed the s-stamina nor the awareness to correct our mistake." He babbled, gritting his teeth into a horrifyingly forced disarming smile as he continued to force the paper into Frankie's hand. Finally, while still keeping up with the polite façade, he delivered a sharp, unseen kick to the girl's shin.

Frankie swiftly bit down hard on her lip to suppress a yelp of pain, and finally she swiftly grabbed the paper from his gloved hand, which Mr. Herriman swiftly withdrew and placed back on his desk. At this, he was quickly able to regain a considerable amount of composure.

"So you see, what we have here is a simple mix-up, entirely of my own doing. Now if I could, I'd…"

As he went on calmly, as if no mysterious transaction had just taken place out of reach of the couple's gazes, Frankie finally stole a quick look at the piece of paper in her hands.

_What on earth is this that? _She wondered bewilderedly. _It looks like…wait, no, it's not…_

She unfurled the paper, only to quickly stifle a gasp of shock. It was a Foster's adoption form, filled out quite neatly in Mr. Herriman's unmistakable flowing script, filled out for Wilt, or at least that's what the name written on the blank line said. But where was the adopter's signature?

"Sorry, but I'm still not quite sure we believe this whole story." Mr. Brown complained irritably.

"Yes, if Wilt really _was_ adopted already, then could we at least see-"

"The adoption form? Yes, of course!" Mr. Herriman quickly interrupted her. "Yes indeed, no problem at all! Why, it's right here, in my desk, right as we speak! Miss Frances, will you please get the _signed_ adoption form for me?" he asked her politely, without even looking at her.

Frankie gave him a blank stare. "Uh…Wilt's adoption form?"

"Ah ha ha, why yes, of course!" Mr. Herriman laughed nervously. "Such a kidder, she is! A real delight to have around the house!" he babbled, noticing the suspicious looks on the couple's faces. "Now Miss Frances, will you please stop kidding around, _reach into the bottom drawer of my desk, and fetch Master Wilt's completed adoption form_?" he ordered through tightly gritted teeth.

Frankie continued to stare at him stupidly until finally it all clicked inside her brain. Without thinking twice, the girl ducked behind the desk and began to fish about furiously in her sweater pockets.

"C'mon, c'mon." she whispered frantically to herself. "I know I…yesss!" she cheered softly in celebration as she withdrew a pen. Hastily she popped of the cap and with a few clumsy movement of her hand, scribbled a rough signature unto the adoption form, and popped up again, waving it triumphantly into the air.

"Got it right here!" she cried, hurriedly slapping it down on the desk. Immediately Mr. Herriman breathed a sigh of utter relief as he took it in his hands and inspected it briefly.

"Yes…yes, of course, here it is! All filled out, as you can plainly see." He said happily, showing it off for the perplexed husband and wife to see.

"Oh." Mrs. Brown muttered disappointedly.

"Wait, what's the child's name?" her husband inquired, squinting his eyes so as to make out the badly scrawled signature. It looks like Fran-"

"Frannie!" Mr. Herriman interrupted none-too-politely. "Um, I mean, Frannie. Yes, that's it! Frannie…"

"Finster." Frankie blurted out. Mr. Herriman nodded furiously.

"Yes, yes I remember! Frannie Finster, of course! Such a sweet little girl, we do hope the best for her poor grandmother."

Mr. Brown finally relented and slumped dejectedly in his chair. "Well, if you say so…"

"Oh, not to worry!" Mr. Herriman cried, leaping to his feet so abruptly that a very startled Frankie leapt back a few feet. "Although Master Wilt is out of your reach, you have no need to fear. I give you my word that you shall not leave friendless today! Why, we have an over abundance of equally fine friends here in residence, plenty in which I'm sure you'll be able to find the one that suits your child the best! In fact, I'm sure the Master Wilt will still be more than happy to assist you in your search for the perfect companion for your son! Isn't that right, Master Wilt?" he asked anxiously.

Wilt, who had been standing silently in dumb shock the entire time, slowly jerked his head in the direction of the disappointed couple. After a considerable amount of effort, he finally managed to twist his face into a weak but nevertheless genuine smile.

"Uh, yeah." He gasped. "Um, okay. No problem.

* * *

"Farewell! 

"Goodbye!"

"See ya!"

The three-eyed, green-striped, duck-like imaginary friend, aptly named Mr. Quackers, flapped his wings ecstatically as he poked his head out of the Brown's minivan window.

"Bye guys! Thanks for everything!" he quacked excitedly at Frankie, Wilt, and Mr. Herriman as the car took off down the road into the fading sunset.

"And the very best of luck to you in your new home!" Mr. Herriman called as the three continued to wave furiously until the vehicle had disappeared from view.

After she ceased her waving, Frankie looked incredulously at the slightly crumpled adoption form she had been carrying in her jacket pocket since earlier, and now gripped tightly in her hand. Wordlessly, she held it up to her eyes and inspected it intently for a few moments, just to make sure it wasn't too good to be true.

"There'll be no need for that Miss Frances," Mr. Herriman reprimanded her lightly. "I can assure you that it is not a counterfeit document."

Both he and Wilt stopped their waving and watched Frankie silently for a few moments. After staring hard at Wilt's name on the document, plus her own scrawled signature, the girl slowly lowered it from her face and stared blankly into Mr. Herriman's eyes.

"I…" she struggled furiously to get the words out, but the full realization of what had just happened in the past hour left her too stunned for words.

"Deep breaths, Miss Frances. Deep breaths should do the trick." Mr. Herriman advised her gently. Frankie quickly followed the advice, taking a few large gulps of air before finally gaining enough composure to speak.

"…Why?" she asked softly as she hugged the adoption form close to herself.

Mr. Herriman coughed nervously before replying. "Well, you see…um…I just thought it'd be necessary…to have the, uh...extra help around the house with your daily chores because…"

He now began to rock back and forth in a fidgety manner on his large rabbit feet as he gave her a weak smile. "…Well, you _are_ going to be watching over an eight-year-old child at the same time."

If he had wished to add anything to that, he never got the chance. The moment he finished his last sentence, Frankie immediately wrapped her arms around his neck and squeezed him in a crushing bear hug. Mr. Herriman gasped for air while her hold grew tighter by the second.

"You mean I-I can actually …you're letting me adopt …" the absolutely elated girl sobbed happily as her tears began to soak his silvery-gray fur.

"I-" he tried to gasp in response.

"You care...y-you really _do _care. I don't…I don't know what else to say…oh God…h-how…how can I ever thank-"

"A breath of air would be nice." Mr. Herriman managed to wheeze as she gripped him like a vice. Immediately, Frankie let go and began to jump about madly in an impromptu victory dance.

"I have an imaginary friend, I have an imaginary friend, I have an imaginary friend…" she chanted endlessly to herself over and over in a singsong manner as she leapt about happily like a ballet dancer, until finally ceasing her flamboyant display with a small twirl in front of Wilt.

"Wheeeeee!" Frankie squealed joyously as she grabbed hold of Wilt's arm. "Did you hear that Wilt? It's official! It's _official_! You're _my_ imaginary friend now! You get to stay here at Foster's! We don't have to worry about you ever getting adopted, ever again! Did you hear that? Wilt? Wilt…"

Frankie quickly toned down her excitement as the towering imaginary friend failed to respond to her unbridled ecstasy. After staring silently into the distance for a few moments, the clearly stunned creature finally lowered his head to look into Frankie's concerned stare.

"Wilt? You okay with all of this?" she asked softly.

Frankie squeaked in surprise as he suddenly bent over and grabbed her by the sweater, lowing his face until their eyes were only inches apart.

"Is this…okay? Is this _okay_?" he murmured incredulously before his mouth contorted into a fierce grimace, much to her shock. "No, Frankie! This is not okay! This isn't okay at all! Of all the ways to describe this, "okay" is not one of them!" he bellowed.

With a whimper, Frankie began to quiver violently in his grip. However, just when it seemed like she was about to faint in fright, he suddenly exposed it all as a well-timed joke as his frown suddenly transformed itself into the biggest smile the girl had ever seen in her life.

"This isn't okay…this is _GREAT_!" he whooped excitedly. With a squeal Frankie found herself lifted at least six feet off the ground and enveloped in a warm hug, which she happily returned in full as the two dissolved into laughter, both near hysterical with joy.

Mr. Herriman, still nursing a bruised neck, couldn't help but chuckle at the heartwarming sight before him. "Well…as soon as you two are through celebrating, I…I do believe that there's something I must tell you, Miss Frances. Not too far from here, there's a group of nuns who run a-"

"You don't need to tell me I already know where Mac is don't ask why I found it by accident c'mon Wilt let's go go go!" Frankie gasped in one breath. Not wasting a single moment, she leapt from Wilt's arm, and forcibly dragged the gangly imaginary friend along with her to the house, all the while screaming at the top of her lungs,

"BLOO! BLOO! BLOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"

As they swiftly vanished from sight, Mr. Herriman allowed himself another soft chortle, dusted himself off, and he tucked his hands neatly around his back while starting the walk back up to the house.

"I _knew_ you'd do the right thing." A mysterious voice suddenly cackled as soon as he entered the front gate. Immediately the old rabbit jerked in surprise and quickly whirled about with a look of panic.

"What? Who said that? I-oh it's _you_." He sighed wearily. Madame Foster chortled as she hobbled out from behind the tall metal gatepost.

"Funny Bunny, you big scaredy-cat." She giggled like a schoolgirl as she wrapped her arms about his waist in a warm hug. Fortunately for Mr. Herriman, his silvery gray fur managed to hide most of his blush.

"Um, Madame…how did you…uh…h-how long were you…" he tried to in his unmistakable embarrassment.

Madame Foster smiled as she looked up at him. "Let's just say being a person of my stature has its advantages now and then." She tittered with a crafty wink.

"Madame, please!" Mr. Herriman blurted out, quite flustered that his own creator caught him so out of character. He hastily tried to explain himself as she continued to just grin smugly "It's not what you think! Please! It merely seemed to be the _logical_ course of action to allow-"

They were suddenly interrupted by the front doors of the old Victorian mansion bursting open, as three blurs, two red and one blue, zipped across the lawn and onto the Foster's bus. The instant the bus doors closed, the motor was started and with a screech of tires the bulky vehicle tore out of the driveway.

"ByeGrandmabyeMr.HerrimanseeyouguyslatergonnagetMacbebacksoon!" Frankie babbled ecstatically, and with that she stepped on the gas and the bus took off down the road, going at least twenty miles above the speed limit.

"Oh dear..." Mr. Herriman groaned wearily and slapped his forehead. Madame Foster however only laughed as she took him by the hand and began to lead him inside.

"C'mon, Mr. Grumbles. Let's go see if we can prepare a little something special for dinner tonight in celebration."

"With an extra place set at the table, of course." Her imaginary friend added with a bit of a wan smile.

"You betcha." The old woman chuckled. "You know, to be honest, I always wanted a grandson…"

* * *

"Wheeeeeeeee!" Bloo squealed excitedly as he recklessly bounced about the bus seats, clearly a far cry from the hollow shell of a blob he formally was as he babbled uncontrollably in joy. 

"Mac! Mac! Gonna be with Mac again! Oh jeez we're gonna see Mac we're really gonna see him he's my super best friend in the whole entire world oh man I really don't believe it we're gonna be best buds again and we're gonna play tag and climb trees and play video games and stay up late and watch scary movies and eat candy and…" the little imaginary friend jabbered incessantly in his unbridled elation.

Frankie, who normally would be screaming angrily at him to knock it off with such behavior, now only laughed gleefully as she glanced up into the rear view mirror.

"Whoa, easy there!" she giggled. "C'mon, we're not even there yet!"

"Yeah Bloo, sit down and try and relax." Wilt chuckled.

Bloo shook his head furiously as he hopped about like a giant azure rubber ball. "Can't sit! Too excited! Can't sit! Gonna see Mac again! Can't sit! Gonna be best friends again! Can't sit! Can't sit!" the hyperactive little creature yelled ecstatically as he continued to leap about.

Despite the incredible ruckus he was causing, Frankie didn't have it in her to scold him even if it was necessary; she had to be honest she was a bit worried that he incredible stroke of luck would take a sudden turn for the worse. Even while driving, the young woman fidgeted about in her seat and chewed her lip anxiously. Wilt, seated directly in the behind her, noticed her nervous behavior and placed a comforting hand on her shoulder.

"Take it easy." He laughed as he flashed her a smile. "Don't worry, he's gonna be fine."

Frankie turned her head briefly to flash a weak grin. "I know, but I-"

"Less talking more driving!" Bloo yelled as he danced about impatiently. "Gotta get Mac! Gotta get Mac! Step on it, Frankie!"

She laughed as she turned the wheel. "Hold on, hold on a sec! We're just about…"

Frankie abruptly stopped in mid-sentence as something caught her eye.

"…There." She finished none-too-cheerfully as she caught sight of something a bit unsettling.

"Frankie, what's wrong?" Wilt asked concernedly as he peered out the window alongside her.

"Dunno." She replied honestly as she stepped on the brake to put the bus in park. Something didn't seem right. Even now, in the dim twilight, Frankie could see the something was badly amiss at St. Joseph's Orphanage the way the barely visible silhouetted figures rushed about in a panic.

"Frankie?" Bloo asked nervously as she turned off the ignition. "What's going on?"

"Oh jeez!" Frankie cried as she opened the doors and sprinted off the bus, Wilt and Bloo in close pursuit.

"Hey, what happened?" she cried as a frantic looking group of nuns rushed about the premises. "Excuse me? Sister? Hello, could you-"

The nuns, however, seemed oblivious to the girl's cries. Instead, they scrambled about in a chaotic mass, calling to one another, rushing in and out of the orphanage, while one particularly old stocky one standing on the doorsteps bellowed out orders in a gruff baritone.

"Sister Agnes, get inside! Help Sister Mary keep an eye on the other children!"

"Yes, Mother Angela!" one black robed woman nodded quickly to her superior as she sprinted off inside.

"Sister Patricia! Take two others and scan around the building! Make sure he's not hiding out back!"

"Shall I send some into the park next door, just in case?"

"Check around here for the child, first!"

"Of course, Mother Angela!"

"Sister Joan-"

"WHAT'S GOING ON?" Frankie shrieked impatiently. The stocky Mother Superior however only frowned irritably at the newcomer as she continued to direct the sisters in a military fashion.

"Child, please! I have no time! Sister Catherine! Go…"

Although Frankie suspected that it was probably a sin of some sort, with an angry growl she bounded up the stone stairs of the orphanage and roughly grabbed the nun by the robe, screaming furiously in a none-too-Christian-like manner.

"WILL YOU PLEASE TELL ME WHAT HAPPENED?" the girl screeched.

Without even blinking, the already very stressed Mother Angela suddenly swatted the frantic girl away with a quick cuff to her head, the blow actually sending Frankie reeling backwards down a few steps until she fell into Wilt's hold.

For an old woman who had devoted her life to God, Frankie had _not_ been expecting her to possess the strength of a heavyweight boxer. Without a second glance back at the dazed redhead, Mother Angela continued to bellow out orders like a drill sergeant.

"Organize search parties in groups of three!"

"Yes, Mother Angela!"

"Frankie, are you okay?" Wilt asked concernedly as he lifted her gently back onto stable footing.

"I-"

"I can't believe he was able to make it over the fence like that!" one sister whispered to another as they rushed by. Frankie immediately went silent as she listened intently. Well, since no one was going to flat out tell her…

"Oh, the poor boy!" another bemoaned as she scrambled off. Frankie could feel a certain dark feeling of despair growing in her stomach.

_Boy? _She thought worriedly. _No, can't be! There's plenty of kids here, Mac's probably inside with-_

"Why didn't we keep a better watch on him? The child lost his family only a few weeks ago!" another one muttered heartbreakingly.

The color drained from Frankie's face. _Just a coincidence, Frankie. Mac's all right, he's gonna be-_

"He was always mumbling about wanting to go home, always whining about wanting to be with some other family."

"I _knew_ we should've paid special attention to that one! Always talking about some "sister," when all he had was a mother and brother." two nuns whispered in harried tones as they scrambled by.

Wilt winced painfully as he felt Frankie draw a sharp intake of breath and clamp down tightly onto his arm.

_Sister? "Only" a mother and brother? Oh God, please no! Not now, not-_

As the girl's mind became a chaotic swirl of panic and terror, black-robed women still managed to race about around her and the two imaginary friends, speaking to one another worriedly as they attended to the apparent emergency that had just taken place.

"…I didn't think he'd be able to do it! No child's been able to scale the fence before!"

"Poor boy, poor boy! We have to find him! If only he climbed it a little slower…"

"…torn to pieces if we don't…"

"…we should've trained it better! It thinks every intruder that comes at night is a burglar…"

"…it definitely spotted him on the other side, now doubt about it! Why else wouldn't he be here…"

All the while, Frankie continued to hold onto Wilt tightly, utterly unable to do a thing except frantically reassure herself that the nuns were not speaking who she thought they were speaking about.

"No." she whispered softly, half to Wilt and half to herself. "It can't be…no, it just can't…"

All her meager hopes were rapidly destroyed however as one particularly frenetic nun let loose a panicked wail.

"We have to find the boy before Rex does first! When he first spotted him, the child was on the other side of the fence! _Mac was already on the other side_!"


	15. Falling Apart: Chapter 8

luckyrocks74, cheeseisawesome SpotlessLadybug and S-A- Thank you so much for your reviews!

azuretears - (don't be scared by the length of this response, it's not bad or anything.) Thank you very much for the criticism! You do bring up a good point about that though, that particular plot twist looked kinda tossed in at the spur of the moment. However, despite how it looks, this isn't a random attempt to keep the story going a little longer. To be quite honest, although the whole thing looks kinda thrown together and doesn't exactly fit with the rest of the story, this whole little scenario was what got me to even finish the sequel in the first place. What I mean by that is I had reached a point where I wasn't too sure where the story was going where I wanted it to, senior year was getting harder _fast_, and I had basically lost a lot of the passion I had when I first started writing this in the first place. Finally though, out of the blue (no particular place where it came from) I just got this idea. And simply put, it's these type of action-packed, drama filled scenes that I really enjoy writing the most, and when I came up with this particular twist, that was when my spark was rekindled and I was able to finish the story. So yeah, this particular twist does seem a little contrived-at-the-last-second, but to be perfectly honest before I came up with this I had only written up to chapter 3 and I had serious doubts about finishing this. In conclusion, basically, despite what it looks like, my whole "twist" was really planned out before I even knew what the rest of the story was going to go (Mr. Herriman's struggle, Wilt's adoption fiasco, that _all_ was thought up and planned up later when my passion for the story came back.)

I'm sorry about the long explanation, but that's truthfully how it all happened. It's a bit confusing I know, but that's just how I write. Either I have the passion for a story, in which I need to write most of it at once or in big splurges of writing over a few days, or they never get finished. I will admit though, that's really not an efficient way to write (I was already 20 pages into the _first_ version of the sequel before I realized_ that_ entire idea was a train wreck waiting to happen).

Anyway, thanks for your support everyone! And now...

Disclaimer: I don't own Foster's Home for Imaginary Friends

* * *

"Oh God, oh God, oh God…" Frankie whispered frantically to herself as she skidded to a halt in front of the park entrance. A few moments later, Wilt and Bloo arrived hot on her heels, their breath coming in ragged gasps as they came to a much-needed stop. 

"Frankie, what are we going to do?" Bloo squealed in terror as he clung on to her skirt. "They said that Mac-"

"I don't believe it!" Wilt cried, shaking his head furiously. "They kept an _extreme-o-saur_ at that place? But why on earth-"

"Th-they said it only goes after who he sees on the other side of the fence!" Bloo involuntarily yelped. "When it spotted Mac, they said he had already made it to the other side! That…that thing thinks that Mac's-"

"And now he's-" Wilt gasped.

"H-he's gonna-" Bloo sputtered.

"Guys, please!" Frankie screamed furiously as she quickly took charge. "Just calm down!"

"Frankie, what are we even doing here?" Bloo yelled frantically, pointing to the orphanage, only a hundred or so yards away, and crawling with panicking nuns. "Shouldn't we be looking over there-"

"Bloo, please!" the girl cried exasperatedly. "Look, we all know Mac's a smart kid. I don't know what all those other nimrods are doing still looking around back there, but if he's got half the brains I think he has, then he probably headed straight for the park-"

"But why-"

"Think about it!" she hurriedly explained her reasoning. "He'd _have_ to pass by here if he was headed towards Foster's, and if he's really being chased by…b-by…"

The very thought was so terrifying she couldn't help but pause as a violent shudder wracked her body. "Look, this would also be the _perfect_ place to try and lose any rampaging extr-"

"So what do we-"

"Wilt" Frankie cried, not skipping a beat and pointing down one sidewalk. "You go left! Bloo! You go right!" she ordered flatly, jabbing her finger down another path. "I'll go take the center! If you find Mac, and if that…that _thing_ is still after him, just scream and we'll try and get to you as soon as possible!_ GO_!" she bellowed at the top of her lungs. Immediately the three shot off their separate ways, running as fast as their legs would carry them.

"Please be okay please be okay please be okay…" Frankie repeated frantically to herself over and over as she sprinted through the dimly lighted park. Her heart pounded furiously in her chest as she glanced about wildly and listened intently for the faintest signs of a frightened little boy; maybe a flash of brown hair, maybe the sound of a faint whimper nearby…

Anything but the spine-chilling howl of an extreme-o-saur on the hunt.

With a gasp Frankie lowered her head and put on an extra burst of speed. She had come too far for this. She did not have Mac brutally wretched from her arms, nearly lose her sanity over the whole tragedy, practically die of a broken heart, just so she could lose him _again_. Not while she was here, not while she had any say in the matter. There was absolutely no way in hell she was going to let some imaginary reject take him away from her permanently. She just had to find him first, before-

Frankie came to a dead halt as a high-pitched noise reached her ears. For a few agonizing moments, she stood frozen in place, praying desperately that it had just been a mind trick of her frazzled brain.

"No, no it can't be!" the girl whispered to herself nervously. "Mac's gonna be just fine! He hasn't been caught yet! He-"

Her blood ran cold. There it was again.

The unmistakable cry of an extreme-o-saur, howling in triumph.

Without thinking twice, Frankie whirled about in the direction of the horrid cries and sprinted off, heart pounding madly in her chest as she put every ounce of energy she had into a wild sprint.

"NO!" she screamed at the top of her lungs. "HOLD ON, MAC! I'M COMING! I'M COMING! MAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAC!"

* * *

Mac squealed in horror as he pressed his back to the large oak tree. His little heart beating wildly, the child gave a hard gulp as he trembled violently in fright, while his doom literally stared at him straight in the eyes. 

The beast growled threateningly as he slowly drew his ugly, reptilian face closer to that of the boy's, his razor-sharp fangs twisted menacingly into a fiendish smile. With a quick bark he snapped his twin whip-like tails and slashed the air with his claws, causing Mac to yelp hoarsely in fear.

"Please, p-please Rex, don't!" he pleaded desperately as tears of fright began to pour down his face. "Rex, it's me! Mac! Mac! Don't you remember? I-I've been at the orphanage f-for two weeks! Please, I'm not a burglar or anything! I-I'm not…I'm not…"

With a harsh sob Mac broke down completely, bawling unashamedly in pure fright. Warm, salty tears poured unchecked down his face as the boy trembled violently in fright. With a small grunt of approval, the ravenous creature smiled maliciously as he viewed his handiwork with his one, blood-red eyeball.

Oh, how he loved the thrill of toying with his prey. Their miserable wails, their tears of fright, the way they trembled violently with every movement he made. Nothing gave him more pleasure then playing with their already shattered emotions, dragging out their agony for as long as possible until their inevitable demise. He closed his eye briefly for a second as he savored the moment, sighing blissfully in content. It had been so long since he had experienced the thrill of the chase. He could barely remember the last time he had such a magnificent hunt. Was it that punk teen he spotted sneaking around a few months ago? That sneaky-looking hobo he saw edging too close to the fence?

It didn't matter. All he knew was that ten minutes ago, while out on a regular patrol of the perimeter, he spotted _this_ pathetic waste of tears scrambling about on the other side. The instant he had seen him, the hunt had been joined immediately. So what that he looked too much like one of the orphans? The nightmarish excuse for a guard dog couldn't care less about that. He spotted the boy on the other side, and as his training had taught him, _all_ those on the other side of the fence were intruders.

Intruders had to be dealt with severely.

As Mac sobbed uncontrollably, a wave of fresh tours began to pour down his cheeks. With a harsh noise resembling that of a snigger, the beast's disgustingly long, forked tongue snaked out to run briefly up and down the boy's face. To the beast, there was nothing better than the taste of fresh, salty tears of fright. Next to the taste of fresh meat, that it.

Mac flinched uncontrollably as he felt the slimy tongue slobber about under his eyes. Still whimpering softly, he didn't know whether he wanted to faint in horror or puke in disgust as the creature's awful breath assailed his nostrils. Swiftly the boy suppressed the violent urge to gag; the beast's breath carried the sickening smell of death. Mac wondered, was that the scent of his own demise he sensed?

With a soft moan he shut his eyes tightly and covered his face. Oh God, when would the nightmare that became his life end? Couldn't his tormentor get it over with? He knew very well the atrocious fate that was coming his way. He had tried to escape, and he failed miserably. Now it was time to pay the fatal price.

Mac wanted nothing more than to be back at his cramped little apartment, to be back in his mother's arms. Hell, even a wedgie from Terrence would be a thousand times better than this.

But Mac knew all of that wishing was completely useless. His mom and brother were _dead,_ his world as he knew it had officially ended a while ago. The frantic escape attempt had been nothing more than a futile last-ditch attempt to flee a new life as an abandoned orphan doomed to be passed about from family to family, a life that he wanted absolutely part of. Now, all that was left was for him to be finished off, to be ripped to shreds by this reptilian nightmare.

_Maybe it's for the best._ He thought to himself. _At least I'll be with Mom and Terrence again. I've got nothing left here…_

Little did Mac know, he had never been more dead wrong in his life than he was at that very moment.

"LEAVE HIM ALOOOOOOOOOOOOOONE!" a heart-wrenching shriek suddenly filled the night.

Rex howled in shock as some nearby bushes parted and a redheaded blur slammed into his side head on with the force of a small freight train, sending the creature sprawling a few yards away. After hitting the grass with a dull _thud_, he shot back to his feet, yowling with rage as his eyestalk wiggled about wildly, taking full stock of this new opponent.

Frankie growled fiercely as she took her place in front of Mac, staring down the extreme-o-saur unblinkingly with a burning glare. Trembling uncontrollably in unbridled rage, the young woman seemed to radiate with an aura of righteous fury. Matched with the halo of frazzled fiery-red hair adorning her head, Frankie looked nearly resembled an avenging angel, facing down a demon from the deepest depths of Hell in preparation for a battle of otherworldly proportions. The beast hissed threateningly as he furiously pawed the ground, snapping his tails like twin whips in a gesture that he hoped would intimidate the girl.

Frankie however was not to be swayed by his bullying techniques. She stared back boldly into the extreme-o-saur's single bulging eyeball, matching him move for move with a vicious snarl as she cracked her knuckles.

"Leave him alone. _Now_." She growled flatly as she took a fighter's stance. Rex snapped his fangs as he reared up on his haunches in preparation to attack.

"You heard me!" Frankie snarled. "Fuck off! You leave him alone, you dirty piece of-"

"_ROWWWR_!" her foe let loose a ferocious battle cry before springing into action.

He was only in midair for about a second before he felt like a cannonball had struck him. The second he became airborne, Frankie boldly tackled him head-on. As soon as the chaotic muddle of girl and extreme-o-saur hit the ground, Frankie was on top of him in an instant. The imaginary friend howled in pain as the girl immediately let loose with everything that she had, kicking madly with her long legs, assailing his upturned belly with a barrage of punches, even taking the opportunity to savagely jerk his eye stalk. All the while, she supplemented her blows with an endless rain of angry swears and screams.

Mac now curled up into a protective little ball, watched the epic battle before him through his fingers. He had thought he had seen Frankie so angry before. No, angry didn't even _begin_ to describe the furious young woman before him who bravely attacked the nightmarish beast with everything that she had. It looked more like Frankie had been possessed by a myriad of demons that had seemed to quadruple her fury and strength.

"Leave him alone! Leave him alone, you scaly son of a bitch! Dirty, no good, one-eyed scumbag! I ougtha beat you to death, you filthy-"

Rex's eye bulged in an unmatched rage. How dare this puny human get the better of him! Never in all his life had he ever been bested in a fight, and he wasn't going to start now. His blood now racing furiously though his veins, he let out an ear-splitting roar of anger as he suddenly kicked out squarely with all four legs, sending Frankie flying.

"_AAAAAAAA_!" she screamed as she sailed through the air and hit the ground hard. Before Frankie even had so much as a split second to get to her feet, Rex bounded over to her and grabbed hold tightly to the back of the girl's baggy green sweater with his razor-sharp fangs.

Frankie shrieked in panic, clawing furiously at the soil as she felt the enraged beast lift her off the ground. Rex may have only been the size of a large dog, but not doubt about it, when his blood was boiling he possessed the strength of a small bear. With a couple swift jerking motions of his neck, he tossed about the young woman as if she was nothing more than a rag doll, her terrified shrieks only energizing him more to continue lashing out with his brutal punishment.

"_AAA_! _AAA_! _AAA_! _AAA_!" Frankie wailed as she was helplessly wrenched about. The sight of seeing her in such torture was just too much to bear, and immediately Mac uncoiled from his little ball and sprung into action.

"Leave her alone!" he cried angrily, tears pouring down his cheeks. "You leave-"

_CRACK!_

With a savage snapping noise, Rex snapped his tails like duel whips, and immediately the small boy was send flying, with twin whip-marks now marring his arms. As Mac crashed into the ground a few yards away, the beast finally gave one more violent jerk as he slammed Frankie onto the hard cement sidewalk.

_CRUNCH!_

The sickening sound of snapping bone rang out for all to hear. Frankie let out an agonized scream as excruciating pain lanced through her left arm As she struggled furiously to get back up, now only one arm was raised defiantly with a clenched fist; the other flopped uselessly at her side.

However, she had barely gotten to her feet when the monster catapulted forward, flying into her stomach as he lashed out with a massive head-butt. Frankie gasped as the wind was knocked out of her, and she was immediately set stumbling backwards, falling over into a heap. As she grabbed her broken arm and sobbed in pain, the extreme-o-saur gave her a snarl before he turned and bounded over to where Mac lay, desperately trying to get his senses together.

Rex would deal with the girl later. For him, it was a policy of first come, first served. He would only need less than a minute to deal with the child-

"NO!" Frankie screamed as she scrambled to her feet and leapt onto the beast's back. Rex roared in pain as the girl grabbed hold of his twisted eyestalk, holding onto it tightly as the creature bucked about wildly as if they were a bizarre rodeo act. Frankie gritted her teeth as she tried to ignore the agonizing waves of pain shot through her broken arm, which flopped about wildly as she herself was tossed about. With a grim look of determination, she hung on tightly to the thrashing extreme-o-saur for dear life, holding on with whatever strength she had.

However, as the beast gave one final violent shake she flew off his back, crashing into the ground with a grunt of pain. Frankie only had a chance to roll onto her back before Rex was on top of her, pinning her easily to the ground with a heavily clawed foot. He snarled at her only briefly, before,

"_AAAAAAAAUUUUUUUUUUUUUUGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHH_!" Frankie's agonized shrieks rent the chilly night air. Her tormentor grinned fiendishly in triumph as he dug his claws deep into her right side, letting out a low howl as he savored the moment of victory.

Frankie screamed as she thrashed about uncontrollably under his weight in intense pain. Never before in her entire life had she even thought such physical agony was even possible. But now, it felt as if she was being brutally stabbed by three red-hot knives as the claws gouged deeply into her flesh. Panic took hold of the tortured girl as she could feel the blood begin to ooze at an alarming rate from her horrific wound, dripping down her side and soaking her skirt.

"Oh God!" she managed to squeal as she writhed about helplessly. Whether it had been a gut reaction or a quick prayer to the Almighty for mercy she didn't know. All she knew that her world now suddenly consisted only and entirely of harsh, unbearable agony that ripped through her body.

The creature growled in delight at Frankie's torment. Yes, that was it. She could struggle as much as she wanted to, only more malicious pleasure for him. She had put up a good fight, but no one could best him in combat. With a hiss he bared his fangs as he slowly lowered his head. As much as he loved this, it was time to finish the job, once and for all.

Unfortunately, the bloodthirsty extreme-o-saur had already savored the sick pleasure far too long for his own good.

"_NOOO_!"

With a hoarse cry Mac leaped forward and latched onto the front leg that pinned Frankie to the ground. As soon as he gripped the scaly appendage, Mac didn't think twice and immediately bit deeply into the scaly skin.

Rex roared in pain and almost immediately withdrew his claws from Frankie's side as he leapt away from the girl, limping about madly as he tried to shake off the sharp-toothed little boy. Mac growled as he hung on like a leech, tightening his hold around the leg and sinking his little teeth in deeper with every passing moment. As he began to bite into the muscle, the beast yowled furiously in torment as he did a mad dance of pain, leaping about and shaking his leg frantically to loosen Mac's tenacious hold.

Finally, with an extra burst of energy, the extreme-o-saur gave his leg a particularly violent shake. Mac squealed as his hold suddenly became undone, and the little fellow flew off like a rocket, soaring through the air until-

_THUD!_

The boy flew face first into a nearby tree, hitting it with the momentum of a small cannonball. Without even so much as a whimper, Mac silently tumbled to the ground, landing in a limp, unmoving little bundle.

Rex snarled at the motionless body before he hastily began to lick at the deep bite wound that marred his leg. He_ never_ thought he'd be able to loose the kid. However though, not only did he manage to shake him off, but he managed to knock him out and subdue the sharp-toothed little devil in the process. Thank God that was all over with. Now with the kid out of the way, there was nothing stopping him from-

He suddenly stopped in mid-lick as a horrifying thought crossed his mind.

_Wait, where was the girl?_

His answer came quite swiftly as a hand suddenly shot out of nowhere and grabbed his outstretched serpentine tongue in a crushing iron grip. The beast tried to squeal in a combination of pain and shock as he came face-to-face with the angriest young woman he had seen in his entire life.

Her frazzled red hair in a mess, blood dripping from half-a-dozen small cuts covering her face, and an unmistakable fire raging in her eyes, Frankie snarled fiercely as she gave a fierce yank to the slimy purple tongue, clenched tightly in her right hand. As her captor's sole eye widened in horror at the sight before him, the girl spat into his face and shrieked in a tone that a dozen banshees wouldn't be able to match.

"WHEN I TELL YOU TO LEAVE MAC ALONE, THEN DAMMIT, YOU LEAVE HIM _ALONE_!"

_THWACK!_

Frankie give one violent tug to the beast's tongue and brought her skull crashing down with the force of a sledgehammer, smashing it directly into her foe's forehead. When she withdrew her hold and backed off, the extreme-o-saur stared at her dumbly for a few seconds, as if he was unsure of what to do next. He suddenly began to wobble about drunkenly, lumbering about wildly until his eye finally closed as he toppled over like a sack of bricks in an unconscious heap.

Frankie groaned as she felt the fresh cut adorning her forehead. Her aching body felt like it was on fire. Cuts and bruises of all shapes and sizes covered her skin from head to toe, as blood trickled out of a dozen small wounds to stain her normally pale peach toned skin with vibrant splotches of red. However, all of those wounds combined paled in comparison to the horrendous claw wound on her right side, where warm, sticky blood continued to pour out at an alarming rate as it soaked her skirt and began to trickle down her leg. Of course, to top it all off, her left arm now flopped about uselessly at her side, unable to move but still more than capable to continue to jolt her body with agony.

Most people in such a pathetic state would have already fainted from the excruciating pain. But not Frankie, for she still had one thing left to take care of.

"Mac?" she moaned weakly. Through badly blurring vision, she slowly scanned the scene of the terrific battle. "M-Mac? Pal? You okay?"

"F-Frankie…" a pathetic whimper replied. Clutching her side in a feeble attempt to stem the flow of blood, Frankie hurriedly limped over to where the little boy lay in a pathetic bundle. Squinting up through half-closed eyes, the semiconscious Mac moaned as he made a pitiful attempt to lift himself off the ground.

"Pal, don't…" Frankie managed to gasp out. Her strength failing her rapidly, the badly-wounded girl managed to settle herself on the ground into a clumsy sitting position. Drawing deep from depleted energy reserves, she managed to reach out with her unbroken arm and draw Mac to her chest, cradling the boy closely to herself in a weak grip.

"Frankie…I…" Mac tried to groan as his eyelids flittered dangerously. A large gash adorning his forehead allowed blood to drip freely down his face.

"Shhhh, it's okay, pal." Frankie whispered soothingly as she awkwardly cradled him. "It's okay, I'm here. Everything's gonna be okay."

Mac struggled to look up and flash her a weak smile, oblivious to the blood that oozed from his cut to mingle with a few stray tears. The boy somehow managed to let out a contented sigh as he rested against Frankie's chest. For all he cared, they could've been back at Foster's snuggled up in front of the fireplace rather than the bloody little huddle they were in now. It didn't really matter, now that she was there he felt oddly at ease.

"H-here." He said softly, reaching into his pocket with a badly shaking hand to withdraw the old silver necklace. "I think it's time to give y-you this back." He mumbled as he let it fall from his weak grip into her lap.

"M-Mac..." Frankie groaned as she struggled to hold him close.

"You c-came back…I knew you w-w-wouldn't leave me…" Mac murmured happily as he slowly slipped into unconsciousness.

Despite the excruciating agony that still raged through her body, Frankie suddenly felt strangely happy and at peace as Mac settled down calmly in her bloody embrace. She grinned weakly as she gave him a gentle nuzzle.

"Of course, pal." She whispered softly. "What are big sisters for, anyway?

It was then that everything quickly went black.

* * *

Before anyone says anything, I'm gonna admit it right now, yes I probably could've finished the story without any of this particular plot twist. But, as stated above, it was basically the thought of writing this whole dramatic scene that really sparked my interest in completing the sequel in the first place. I could've taken this out...but it didn't seem right to me to do so, because this was what really resurrected the whole project from being a candidate for the Recycle Bin. 

Just felt like saying so...

Thanks anyway, guys! Please, read and review!


	16. Falling Apart: Chapter 9

First off, I just want to apologize to a bunch of you guys out there. Sorry, I should've added a quick note at the end of that last chapter saying that the story wasn't done yet, or that there was still more story left to go. A lot of you were under the impression that that was the end of the story, with Mac and Frankie dying or something. My bad! I should've cleared that up! C'mon, I'm not gonna have them go through all of _that_ and then kill them off, am I?

Second, I just want to give an all-around general big round of thanks to S-A, SpotlessLadybug, Patrick, and LordShel85. Thank you so much for your reviews, guys!

Also, in specific response to a couple...

lucyrocks73- (as Wilt would put it) I'm sorry! I'm sorry! Oh jeez, my bad completely! Thank you for putting it so gently! And thank you very much for your nice review, too!

cheeseisawesome- Yes, Bloo and Wilt do have what seems like a very odd absence, but when I wrote that chapter, I basically wrote it with the idea that neither one was simply able to make it to help Frankie and time (besides, someone's gotta take them to the hospital.) Thank you so much for reviewing! Oh yeah, you are right about that tears/tours mix-up :)

azuretears- Sorry if my response left kind of a weird impression, I just like to be thorough when I respond to reviews. Don't feel bad or anything, like I said I'm glad to take any advice or criticism, and I'm just glad that you're taking the time to carefully read and review (God knows how much those first reviews you gave helped me when during my first story.) Thank you so much for all your help and support!

Okay, now here we go again!

Please read and review!

* * *

"Miss Francesssss…" a faraway voice echoed. Frankie groaned as she stirred a little.

"Miss Francesssss…" the voice just repeated, and the girl moaned as she slowly came to.

_What's...what's going on? _She thought, as her senses swam. _Where am I?_

As soon as her eyes flittered open a bit, a brilliant blinding white light immediately assailed her vision., forcing Frankie to involuntary gasp in shock.

_White light…mysterious voice…I'm in…no, no it just can't be…_

"Miss Francessss…" the strange voice only continued to call for her.

As the white light continued to grow brighter, Frankie suddenly felt very strangely at peace with herself. With a gentle sigh, she spread out her arms in preparation to meet her Maker.

_Yes…yes, it has to be. Yes Lord, I'm coming…I'm coming…I'm…_

Wait.

Something was wrong.

How come her left arm was failing to respond?

Why did heaven have that funky, overly sanitized smell?

And since when did God speak with a formal British accent?

Frankie's eyes snapped open to allow her to come face to face with an all-too-familiar whiskered visage that was definitely _not_ the Almighty.

"_EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEK_!" she immediately let loose with a horrified shriek.

"Oh my word!" Mr. Herriman cried in shock as he hastily hopped back a few paces.

Sitting up straight in her hospital bed, Frankie gripped her chest tightly and gasped as if she had almost suffered a small heart attack. When she had assured herself that no cardiac failure had occurred, she quickly shot the rabbit a nasty glare.

"DON'T _DO _THAT!" she yelled furiously.

Rather than be intimidated by her outraged screams however, Mr. Herriman simply brushed her protests aside in his usual businesslike manner as he hopped back to her side and gently pushed her back onto the bed.

"Please, Miss Frances, try and show some self-restraint! You are hardly one for such stressful behavior. Your overall medical condition is fragile enough as it is, I must implore you to please calm yourself."

Despite her great displeasure at being reprimanded only a minute after awakening, Frankie nevertheless allowed herself to lie back down, though only for the briefest of moments before she suddenly remembered why she was in such a pitiful physical state to begin with.

"_Mac_!" she yelped, shooting upright again. "Is Mac-"

"What did I just tell you?" Mr. Herriman swiftly reprimanded as once again he delicately forced her back down, though he did take care to answer, "There's absolutely nothing to worry about, the child is just fine. Believe me, if there's anyone who deserved to be fretted over, it should be you."

Upon hearing the good news, she heaved a gasp of relief as she settled down, before inquiring curiously, "How…h-how long have I been out for?"

"A little less than a full day, Miss Frances. And what an almost twenty-four hours it has been! That was certainly quite the scare you gave us! Never in my life have I seen such gravely atrocious injuries!" he exclaimed as he quickly launched into one of his infamous lectures. "Just when I thought we had been visited _enough_ by the police department, you can hardly imagine my dismay when an officer of the law _again_ appeared at our door last night. If that wasn't unpleasant enough, then you cannot imagine the horror I felt once I saw that he held _your_ own very torn and battered sweater, and quite a bloody piece of clothing, might I add! I personally disposed of the offending garment this morning, but that's beside the point! You should have seen the look on your poor grandmother when she learned the awful news of your little "adventure!" My goodness, I thought she was about to faint right there in the foyer! The news he gave us was so horrifically outrageous that I myself actually thought the man was playing some cruel joke at first! You of all people should know how dangerous and outright foolhardy it is to actually try and take on a vicious beast armed with nothing but your bare hands! I know you had nothing but a child's welfare in mind, but your recklessness was absolutely…"

Considering that she had just regained consciousness, needless to say she wasn't exactly pleased that he was already scolding her like she was a naughty toddler. As he droned on, Frankie shook her head exhaustedly and she expertly tuned him out as she began to take stock of her present condition.

Considering the nightmarish state that she had been in the night before, it was clear that the doctors certainly did a wonder in patching her up; her broken left arm now lay firmly set in place by a heavy cast and sling. Using her free right arm to reach down under her sheets, she felt a heavy bandage covering the atrocious claw wounds that she had received the night before. Besides this, a myriad of other smaller bandages and dressings decorated her body and covered the various cuts and other superficial wounds she had received in her battle, and to top it all off one of her eyes was so swollen she could barely open it halfway. Her body ached all over, she felt too exhausted already to even sit up in bed again, and by from what she could see, Frankie guessed that she probably resembled a half-done Egyptian mummy.

_But at least I'm alive to see I look like total hell_, _aren't I?_ She realized, and smirked weakly to herself as Mr. Herriman continued to ramble on.

"…And I'm sorry, but I simply can't overstate this enough; you are _not_ to engage in such utterly rash behavior ever again!" he barked sternly. "Do I make myself clear, Miss Frances?"

Once she realized he was finished, Frankie immediately began to nod her head furiously, as if she had obediently hung on to his every word.

"Uh, yeah! Got it! Crystal clear, Mr. H!" she babbled.

"I should say so!" Mr. Herriman huffed as he folded his arms across his chest with a stern nod.

"Of course, you know certainly the punishment that shall be dealt for this."

"Oh yeah! Gotcha! No probl-_WHAT_?" Frankie shrieked indignantly, snapping out of her default agreement mode. With an angry growl she immediately shot back up into a sitting position and let loose a furious barrage of unbridled rage.

"Punishment? What do you mean 'punishment'? Hey, Fuzz-Butt, in case you didn't notice, I almost _died_ last night! I fought a freakin' extreme-o-saur, and the damn thing almost _killed_ me in the process! Now, if you think I'm gonna just lay back here while you…" she jabbered ferociously as her face reddened.

"Yes…I think a few weeks of paid "maternity" leave should do just nicely." Mr. Herriman declared with a chuckle, as his austere glare quickly softened into a warm smile

"…Then you've got another thing coming, buster! I…" Frankie trailed off as her jaw dropped in dumb shock. With her mouth hanging agape, she stared mutely at him for a few seconds before finally finding her voice again. "Wait, what the…"

"You heard me well enough." The rabbit continued to chortle merrily with a sly wink.

Frankie cocked her head bewilderedly and gawked at him like he had two heads. True, she did hear his last few words quite clearly, and had comprehended "paid" and "leave" almost instantaneously. But that one word that came in between them? _That_ just didn't seem right at all.

"Whoa! Hold on, hold on…_maternity_?" she repeated in disbelief. "Look mister, last time I checked I was pretty sure I wasn't _pregnant_ or anything, so if you're just-"

"Well, I'm not exactly sure if "maternity" is the proper term to use in our specific situation, but I'll allow you to decide fully on your own designation later. In the meantime, I hope this will make things clear." Mr. Herriman cut in as he gently pressed a piece of paper into her hand with a peculiarly smug smile. Frankie eyed him warily before looking at the form.

"Okay, look, if this thing doesn't say "April Fool's" or something like that, then I'm……I…I-I'm gonna…I…I-I…oh...oh my God…"

Frankie rapidly trailed off as she stared dumbly at the official document she held in her hand. For a few seconds she examined it intently, softly mouthing the finely printed words over to herself as if to make sure what she read was in fact real. Finally, with eyes bulging to the size of saucers in her astonishment, she gave an anxious glance in the direction of the still-grinning Mr. Herriman.

"N-no joke? Is this-" she whispered incredulously.

"First Master Wilt's adoption form, now this? Must you really question me _every_ time I hand you a legal document?" he couldn't help but cease upon the chance to joke. "I give you my word, Miss Frances, that this is indeed no cruel prank. As you can plainly see, I was quite busy attending to some rather important business this morning while you were temporarily incapacitated. However, as you can well imagine it did take me a considerable amount of time to clear up some misunderstandings with the Mother Superior at St. Joseph's, whom I must say was still quite shaken after last night's… um…"incident", if you will. However, once we were able to take care of all _that_, the sisters were quite helpful in..."

"I get…I-I really…oh my God…it's official…I…" the stunned girl struggled to force the words out as her hands started to tremble involuntarily.

"Please Miss Frances, please calm yourself! Don't forget your condition!" Mr. Herriman reminded quickly as he patted her shoulder. "True, I did manage to get most of the proper paperwork in order. But as you can plainly see for yourself, as with our own adoption forms back at the house, this particular form still requires your own personal signature. That is, if you still wish to become the legal guardian of Master-"

"Mac?" Frankie inquired softly as soon as she spotted the child in question along with a familiar azure blob peeking cautiously into the room out of the corner of her eye. As soon as she craned her head in their direction, Mac, unsure if he had rudely interrupted anything, hesitated dumbly in the doorway, while Bloo tried to slink out of sight with a guilty frown.

However, this was exactly what the young woman had been waiting for. The very second she caught a glimpse of the child, she was almost immediately overwhelmed with unfathomable glee. Frankie rudely shoved the adoption paper back into Mr. Herriman's hands and reached out with her sole functioning arm.

"Mac! _MAC_!" she began to squeal ecstatically, and once he understood she was all right, Mac broke out smiling from ear to ear as he yelped elatedly in reply,

"_FRANKIE_!"

Immediately the boy bounded in, with an immensely relieved-looking Bloo following close on his heels. The two had barely crossed through the threshold however when a familiar towering imaginary friend glanced in, no doubt attracted by the commotion.

"Huh?" Wilt grunted as he peered in curiously. "Guys, what's going on-"

The instant he realized a certain lanky redhead was finally awake, without further ado he temporarily transformed into a crimson blur as he instinctively rushed over to her bedside.

"_Wilt_!" Frankie yelled gleefully, giggling like an overexcited five-year-old on Christmas.

Now laughing uncontrollably with relief, Wilt swept up Bloo and Mac up in his long, skinny arm and neatly deposited them onto the girl's bed, where once they made contact upon the mattress, they immediately rushed forward into her outstretched arm. Meanwhile, Wilt snaked his arm around her in preparation for a warm embrace. Frankie squealed and began motioning ecstatically for everyone to get close for what she expected to be a heartwarming group hug.

It was a decision that she immediately regretted.

"_AAAUUUUUUGGGGHHH_!" The young woman shrieked in pain the instant the trio came in contact with her. Immediately her tender, aching body shuddered violently in protest as fresh waves of agony ripped through her.

"OUCH! I TAKE IT BACK! I TAKE IT BACK! OW! OOO! GET OFF! GET OFF! OW! OW!" she screamed in protest, her wails deafening those present in the room and reverberating out into the hallways for half the hospital to hear.

For the next few seconds, it was mass chaos. Immediately, Mac swan-dived off the bed to the floor, Mr. Herriman and Wilt both backed away in fright, and Bloo flat-out panicked and hurriedly scrambled under the bed with a terrified squeak.

Once her involuntary yelling quickly subsided, Frankie gasped for air as she struggled to catch her breath again. While she recovered from her outburst, Mac peered warily over the edge of her bed, catching her eye.

"…Too much?" he asked cautiously.

"Too soon." Frankie wheezed in reply as she clutched at her chest, learning rather painfully that such eruptions were not the thing to do when one is still recuperating from near-fatal injuries.

"You…y-you gonna be okay?" Mac inquired softly, his trembling voice thick with worry.

It was then Frankie noticed that besides the neat square bandage adorning his forehead, the child's face was quite haggard, with dark bags sagging heavily under his eyes. From the looks of it, it was clear that he probably hadn't slept in a day, for all too obvious reasons. She managed a gentle smile as she patted the boy affectionately on the head.

"Don't worry about it." She assured him with a weak chuckle. "C'mere, how about we try that again and see if we can get it right this time-"

"Don't strain yourself! Don't strain yourself!" Wilt fussed like a mother hen. Quickly he reached across the bed with a lanky arm, smartly nabbed Mac himself, and deposited the child into Frankie's hold as delicately as possible. The girl winced as Mac warily came in contact with her tender body.

"Aah! Easy, easy does it…ouch! Ooo! Wait…wait…okay, we're good." She said wearily as she wrapped her arm around him in a warm hug.

Immediately the boy snuggled contentedly into her embrace, throwing his arms around tightly her and nestling his head inside the crook of the girl's neck. Frankie couldn't care less that he was rubbing up against her wounds; she couldn't even feel the dull ache, only the euphoria that instantly possessed her. While she burst out beaming brightly, the child inquired almost incredulously as he hugged her,

"Frankie? M-Mr. Herriman said that you actually want to…y-you're gonna be my…that you want t-to…a-and…I-I'm gonna…" Mac murmured incredulously, but couldn't help but fumble helplessly over his words in excitement as his eyes began to tear up rapidly in happiness.

Meanwhile, he could actually feel her entire body tremble with indescribable elation. For a few moments, she just wordlessly smiled from ear to ear while basking in the warmth and joy of the moment. It almost seemed too good to be true; she was almost expecting any second now for someone to tell her that the hoax was over. However, despite her astonishment her senses did not deceive her, and the young woman was so ecstatic she could barely speak.

"Welcome home, pal." Frankie finally managed to whisper, and nuzzled him affectionately as the hot tears began to trickle freely down her cheeks. For the next few moments, the two simply embraced tightly in wordless bliss, as if neither one never wanted to let go of the other ever again.

Seconds later though, an over-excited Bloo eagerly joined in on the heartwarming reunion by clambering up onto the bed with them. Frankie tried to unsuccessfully hug the little imaginary friend too, but with only one properly working arm she was forced to make do with a clumsy pat on the head and another gentle nuzzle for the little creature, who happily accepted it with a toothy smile. Meanwhile Wilt pulled up a chair so he could seat himself comfortably with his "kid" in protective reach.

"Ha!" he couldn't help but observe with a grin. "Never thought I'd see someone to be so happy to be a legal guardi-…uh, wait…no, you're a…sorry, I…uh…"

The lanky imaginary friend scratched his head as he tried to figure out her proper designation. Frankie grinned amusedly at the sight, merely happy to have an opportunity to be able to laugh for once after all that she had endured.

"Wilt, it's all right," she giggled weakly as she wiped at her tearstained cheeks, "You really don't need to-"

"No, no, it's okay want to make sure I have this down now. I don't want to mess it up, or… " The irrepressible creature stammered. "Wait you're still his big sister, right? Wait, no…that was before you…and now you're a…uh…"

"No man, you were waaaay off." Bloo cut in, speaking in a matter-of-fact tone. "That would definitely make her Mac's new mom-" he suddenly interrupted in mid-correction, suddenly unsure of his assumption. "No, hold on a sec…Frankie's gonna be...er...wait, she's twenty-two, so…"

"My…uh…my older sis…wait, my moth…um…" Mac murmured wearily as his eyelids started to sag heavily.

"Screw it, you guys." Frankie couldn't help but laugh at their befuddlement. "We can work _that_ one out later."

Wilt finally let it go with a chuckle as he tousled her hair affectionately, causing her already enormous grin to widen a little. Bloo silently nodded in agreement, yawned loudly, then curled up happily against his best friend. Meanwhile, Mac, finally back where he belonged, was nothing but smiles as he tried to simultaneously hug his creation close with one arm and snuggle even closer to Frankie.

Deciding that this heartwarming scene was hardly the time to ask for something as trivial as a signature, Mr. Herriman wordlessly turned around and hopped out of the room as quietly as possible with a small smile adorning his face, despite his best efforts to hide it.

"Aw, would you just look at 'em, Bunny." Madame Foster gushed as she peered in from the hallway.

"Indeed, Madame." Mr. Herriman nodded politely as he took his place by her side. "It seems I will have to wait until tomorrow until Master Mac's forms can be properly completed."

"Ooooh, unfinished paperwork! We all know how much you love _that_." She teased playfully. Her imaginary friend rolled his eyes.

"Oh Madame, please! Do have some faith in my patience!" he groaned wearily. "Er…shouldn't you go and talk to…"

The little old woman just smiled warmly as she watched the three huddle contently around the patient in her hospital bed as exhaustion from the last twenty-four hours finally got the best of them. Slowly, one-by-one, the weary visitors slowly closed their eyelids in succession until only her granddaughter was left somewhat awake, fatigued from a blend of the excitement and her overall weak condition.

"Nah." She chuckled as she gently shut the door. "She needs her rest. They _all _do, actually; Lord knows how long the others were fretting themselves exhausted. Besides, I think she's already had enough for one day, don't you think?"

"If you declare so." Mr. Herriman replied. Madame Foster laughed at her stuck-up, overly proper imaginary friend and gently took him by the hand.

"C'mon, Funny Bunny." She chuckled as they made their way down the hospital corridor. "I think we have a spare room at home near Frankie's that needs some fixing up..."

* * *

Frankie sighed happily as she took quick stock of her "family." Wilt, the first to doze off, slumped awkwardly in the undersized chair, with his good arm wrapped securely around her shoulders. At the same time, she could already feel the rhythmic breathing of a snoring Bloo as he lay curled upon her stomach like a tired puppy, contently resting his head resting against his creator's belly. Mac, meanwhile, had been the last of the trio to nod off, and now lay peacefully at rest in her awkward, one-armed embrace, with his mouth curved slightly into a blissful smile.

As her own eyelids drooped more and more, Frankie settled back wearily into her pillows as she took careful review of her current situation.

She was a twenty-two-year-old young woman working as an imaginary friend caretaker at her grandmother's.

She had neither a boyfriend, nor so much as a car of her own for that matter.

She now officially had an imaginary friend of her own, probably the oldest person around that she knew of besides her grandmother to possess such a thing.

She was now the legal guardian of an eight-year-old kid, thus also putting her in charge of _his_ imaginary friend as well.

She was barely out of college, and already she formed the cornerstone of quite possibly the most unorthodox family unit in existence.

As Mac snuggled nearer to her in his sleep, Frankie elicited another blissful sigh as she hugged him closer. Just before her sagging eyelids finally drooped shut, one final thought flittered through her mind before she drifted off into a well-deserved slumber.

_And I couldn't be happier._


	17. Falling Apart: Epilogue

Thank you! Thank you all so much for all your support! Oh jeez, I really honestly don't know what else to say...azuretears, cheeseisawesome, Kelt, S-A, MoldyKetchup, Kitty-gizmoforyoubrats2, lucyrocks73, SpotlessLaybug, THANK YOU! And to think, I was truthfully having some doubts when I first posted chapter 1 of "Falling Apart"...oh man, I seriously can't thank you guys enough for all your encouragement! Thank you, thank you, thank you!

Now of course, before we get any further, I just have the usual specific replies to some of your last reviews:

cheeseisawesome- Yeah, I know it does look kinda weird that Mac seems to be mysteriously injury free in the last chapter, but really during the fight it was Frankie who received the brunt of everything. Mac really didn't get much more than that head wound when he was tossed into the tree, which I did mention extremely briefly that he now had a bandage covering that all up. I'm sorry if that wasn't clear! Thanks for asking!

Kitty-gizmoforyoubrats2- Whoa! You really want to do some fan art for "More Than My Friend"? Oh my God, SWEET! Seriously though, that's totally awesome! Go for it! Just tell me if you're actually doing it and what specific scenes you want to do (no reason, I'm just super-curious to know). Oh, thank you so much!

And now, the final installment...

Disclaimer: I don't own Foster's Home for Imaginary Friends

* * *

_(A few months later...)_

"RUUUUUUUUUUUN!" Bloo squealed as he leapt down five stairs at once and dashed off madly down the hallway.

"Oh jeez, she's gaining! She's gaining!" a pajama-clad Mac cried as he trailed closely behind his best friend, little legs moving in a blur as they rounded a corner and made a mad descent down another flight of stairs.

"ALL RIGHT, WHERE ARE YOU?" A shrill, feminine voice rang out throughout the hallway. Mac yelped loudly in fright as he quickly picked up the pace in response.

"Run for it Bloo!" he yelled as he raced ahead of his panting imaginary friend.

"What's it look like I'm doing?" Bloo panted while pumping his little blue stubs furiously.

"C'mon, let's go!" his panicked creator urged hurriedly as they made a mad dash down the main stairwell into the Foster's foyer. "Okay, I think we can lose her if we just-_AUGH_!" he yelped in fright as he stepped off the last stair, coming to an instantaneous dead halt.

Just a moment later, Bloo came hurtling into the back of his petrified best friend, sending the two sprawling into a chaotic bundle on the floor. Immediately the two miscreants hugged each other tightly, trembling violently as they came face to face with their pursuer.

After unexpectedly skidding out from the dining room into the foyer, Frankie stood over the pair with a look of grim triumph on her face, reared up and poised to lunge. With a look of bitter determination, the girl spread her arms in preparation to nab her quarry.

"Okay, guys, end of the road!" she growled menacingly. "There's no esca-"

Before she finished Frankie suddenly sprang forward in a surprise pounce with a victorious yell. However, the instant she made her move, Mac and Bloo immediately respond with a surprise maneuver of their own design. The second Frankie reached forward the two quickly undid their hold on each other and quickly split up in a brilliantly executed evasive maneuver. As Frankie made a futile nab at Mac while he darted around her, Bloo made a dazzling slide between her legs and grabbed hold tightly of the hem of the purple nightgown she was attired in, giving it one fierce tug. Frankie, who was already off-balance due to her failed attack, now lost her footing completely and with a squeal of surprise tumbled flat on her stomach with an undignified _splat_.

Before she could recover from her comical fall, Mac and Bloo quickly darted off in escape.

"YESSSS!" Bloo whooped excitedly as he gave Mac a high-five in celebration.

"Yeah, alright!" Mac laughed as the duo exited in a mad dash. Gritting her teeth, Frankie hurriedly scrambled to her feet and raced off in hot pursuit of the pair.

"Oooooooh, you'll pay for that!" she cried furiously, nightgown rustling about her as the chase started up again full swing.

Much to the utter horror of the child and his imaginary friend, the girl's long legs and unmatched energy reserves were quite a force to be reckoned with, and it took only a few seconds until Frankie trailed them by only a few feet.

"Get back here!" she snarled. "If you don't stop right this instant…"

"AAA! What do we do now?" a panicky Bloo yelled.

"Evasive maneuvers!" Mac cried as a swipe from Frankie came within inches of his head.

"Yeah! Evasi-_what_?" he asked stupidly while still keeping up his frantic pace.

"It means follow me!" Mac snapped impatiently as he grabbed his imaginary friend by the arm and made a sharp ninety-degree turn into the TV room.

"EYAAAAAA!" Frankie screamed like an Amazonian warrior as she bounded in after them. With a few quick movements, she effectively cut off the pair's retreat through the other door after a spectacular leap over the couch, skidding to a halt in front of their only exit.

"You're not going anywhere!" she growled as she made another grab. Screaming in horror, Bloo and Mac whirled about and tried to dash off in escape, only to have the nimble young woman cut off all other available means of retreat as well. Breathing hard, hearts pumping madly in their chests, Mac and Bloo suddenly found themselves backed off into a corner as Frankie moved upon them with a ferocious glare. From the look of grim determination adorning her face, it was clear to the duo that she was not going to let them fool her again. 

"Well, well, what do we have _here_?" Frankie asked mockingly as she slowly advanced upon the two. Bloo shook his head furiously as he pressed his back firmly against the wall in a futile effort to escape.

"No, please! Frankie, don't!"

"I've been waiting for _this_ for sooooo long…" she only went on, smirking wickedly.

"Don't do it! Please, no! Don't! Anything but that!" Mac dropped to his knees and pleaded with her desperately. However, not even this pitiful display moved the young woman to show any mercy upon the two. Frankie continued to advance upon the trapped two, spreading her arms and wiggling her fingers in anticipation for what she was about to deal out.

"Uh huh, yeah right! Nice try, you guys. Like that's really gonna work on me." She scoffed. At this point, Mac and Bloo had long given up pleading for mercy and instead turned back to their last resort of clinging to each other tightly. It was all over now.

Frankie shot them a twisted smile as she crouched down slightly, fully prepared to attack her helpless prey.

"You two are so…_dead_." She chuckled fiendishly with a wicked grin. With that she made her move and sprang forward, pouncing on Mac and Bloo with her triumphant cry of…

"TICKLE FIGHT!" Frankie laughed victoriously as she playfully tackled the two to the floor. The instant she had them pinned, she immediately began to tickle them furiously. Quickly it became obvious that that only real danger the boy and imaginary friend was in was of dying of laughter.

"Hahahahaha! Frankie, cuttitout! Hee hee! Quit it! Quit it! Ha ha!" Mac squealed as Frankie tickled his ribs furiously.

"No way!" she chuckled in reply. "You know the rules of the game, I caught you fair and square! You're mine now!"

"Ackpth! Wohahahaha! Stoppit! Aw, c'mon!" Bloo laughed as he desperately tried to escape the girl's relentless assault.

"Foolish mortals!" Frankie boomed jokingly. "And you actually thought you could possibly flee from my all-tickly grip? A curse on to thee, you shall now pay for your ignorance!" she cried before giving away to a fit of her own giggles, helplessly caught up in the silly moment.

"Eek! Tee hee hee! Frankie, knock it off!" Mac managed to squeak as she started on his stomach.

"Gootchie gootchie goo!" Frankie giggled, the boy's protests only encouraging her to redouble her efforts. However, just as she had the two practically screaming in laughter,

"MISS FRANCES, WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING?" an odd, obviously fake British accent thundered from the hallway.

However, rather than put an end to their roughhousing and answer respectfully, almost immediately Frankie withdrew from her tickly assault and ducked behind the couch, Mac and Bloo jumping along behind in her wake. Quickly Frankie huddled into a ball and clamped a hand tightly around her mouth in a desperate attempt to suppress her incessant giggling, looking for all the world like a naughty child hiding playfully from a stern parent. As the trio unsuccessfully tried to keep their stifled laughter to a minimum, the squeak of basketball shoes became evident as someone entered the room.

"Miss Frances? Where are you? I am quite disappointed in you, young lady!" the newcomer went on in his comically phony British accent. "How dare you commit wanton acts of roughhousing and other such atrocities here in our fine institution? You of all people should know perfectly well about the outrageous number of house rules you have just broken, especially rule one-hundred-and-forty-three, section five, clause eight…"

The speaker went silent. Suddenly, before any of them knew it, a long, skinny arm suddenly snaked over the couch and lifted a squealing Frankie high into the air.

"…What goes around, comes around!" Wilt laughed merrily as he deposited her neatly on top of the couch, before eagerly giving her exactly what she had been giving to her prisoners just a minute before.

"EEEEEK! Tee-hee-hee! Stoppit! Stoppit, Wilt, knock it off! Hahaha!" she laughed as she thrashed about uncontrollably.

"What's that?" Wilt asked playfully, cocking his head. "What's that you say? You want more?"

"Nooo! Haha! I said I-"

"You heard Frankie, guys!" Wilt chuckled as he gave Mac and Bloo a wink. "Give the girl what she wants!"

"Hahahahaha! No guys, s-seriously! Hee hee! Cut it out! Cut it-woahahahahaha!" Frankie laughed hysterically as Mac and Bloo eagerly took up the challenge and pounced on top of her, giving the helpless young woman everything they had.

"Dibs on her sides!" Mac sniggered as he attacked.

"The feet are all mine!" Bloo yelled, joining in on the three-way assault. At this point the girl was shrieking so loudly in mirth it looked like she was about to burst.

"Hahaha! C'mon g-guys, knock it off, kno-heeheehee! Stoppit! Stoppit, please! Hahaha-"

_THUMP!_

Wilt cried out in horror as Frankie accidentally rolled off the couch, taking the squealing Bloo and Mac along with her in a quick, undignified descent to the floor.

"Okay, okay…I think that's enough for now." she just giggled lightly as she looked up from the tangled heap.

"Yes, that's enough! That's enough! Oh jeez, that's enough!" Bloo yelped, desperately trying to pull himself free while Frankie accidentally sat on him.

"Hold on, buddy!" Mac cried heroically as he clambered over the girl in a slapdash rescue attempt.

"Oh, no you don't! C'mon, time for little boys and their imaginary friends to go to bed!" Frankie chuckled in a singsong manner as she nabbed Mac and yanked Bloo none-too-gently out from under her. With one kicking and squeaking little figure tucked securely under each arm, she clambered to her feet and began to make her way to the foyer.

"Hey, no fair! Leggo! Leggo!" Bloo yelled as he thrashed about with his little arms.

"C'mon Frankie, We're not babies!" Mac tried to yell in mock indignation while still desperately trying to hold back some stray laughter. Frankie only plastered a ridiculously goofy smile on her face as she affectionately nuzzled each one of them.

"Of course you're not babies, you're just my special little guys!" she cooed in a sickeningly cutesy voice. "Besides, when "Mommy" says bedtime is ten o'clock-"

"_Big sister_." Mac corrected her with a groan.

"Or legal guardian." Wilt quickly added with a grin. Frankie rolled her eyes.

"Whatever. All I know is that when _I_ say that bedtime is ten, then it's ten, no exceptions!" she declared resolutely.

"No exceptions at all?" Wilt chuckled. Frankie shot him a quizzical look as she continued to carry Mac and Bloo along in her tenaciously loving hold.

"Well…yeah, I guess…"

"Well then, if little boys need to be carried of to bed at ten, then why not little _girls_ as well?" the lanky imaginary friend laughed with a fiendish grin before diving into action.

"ACK! Wait, wait no, no, no-EEEEEEEEEK!" Frankie squealed as he easily scooped her up in his good arm along with the still-giggling duo she carried along herself. As the broadly smiling Wilt cradled the young woman like a baby, Frankie kicked her legs furiously and yelled indignantly,

"Twenty-two years old! I'm Twenty-two years old! What part of that don't you understand? Twenty-two, _not_ three!" she cried, her face glowing with a vibrant shad of scarlet in her intense embarrassment. Wilt only plastered an even bigger grin on his face and replied,

"Of course you're not, you're just my special little gal!" he cooed in a high-pitched imitation of the girl's own voice. Frankie groaned as she continued to squirm in his grip, while at the same time clamping down her own clutch on the incessantly wiggling Mac and Bloo.

"Okay, okay, I get it! I get it!" she yelled, trying to unsuccessfully stifle a giggle. "C'mon Wilt, I just want you to put me down-"

"Down? You mean like _this_?" Wilt laughed before she could even finish her sentence, flipping Frankie upside-down in his arm with one fluid movement. All three in his hold squealed in unison as they all found themselves dangling inches off the floor, Mac and Bloo suddenly clutching on to Frankie for dear life while the girl shrieked in protest.

"AUGH! Not like that! Not like _that_!" she cried, suspended helplessly like a fish on a line. "Wilt, put us back up! Put us back up!"

Wilt only laughed harder as he began to playfully swing her from side to side instead like a giant human pendulum.

"What's that, Frankie? Back and forth? Well, if you insist…"

"NO! Stoppit!" Frankie cried, desperately trying to hold back her own laughter. "Cut it out! You know I don't like this!"

"Wheeeeee!" Bloo cheered happily. "This is better than the amusement park! Faster! Faster!"

"No! No!" Mac shouted before he shut his eyes tightly and buried his face into Frankie's shoulder. "Ohhhh, I think I'm gonna be sick!"

"Pal, no!" Frankie squeaked as her face contorted with horror. "I just mopped the floors this afternoon! I just-"

"A-_hem_!" the gruff sound of someone clearing his throat suddenly cut through the chaos. Upon instant recognition of the voice, all four miscreants went silent, as Wilt gently turned around to face a stern-looking Mr. Herriman. Clad in his sleeping gown and nightcap, the old rabbit tapped his foot impatiently.

"Miss Frances, Master Wilt, Master Mac, Master Blooragard." He acknowledged stiffly.

"Uh…Mr. H, we…um...er… " Frankie stammered nervously as she dangled upside-down, anticipating a lecture for roughhousing coming on.

"This isn't what it looks like! All the blood was rushing to our feet, see, and we-" Bloo tried to throw out a slipshod excuse.

"Bloo, shut up!" Mac snapped. "Mr. Herriman, we were just…uh…"

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" Wilt apologized profusely. However, after about a minute of stammered babbling, hasty defenses, and a plethora of apologies, they all finally realized in almost exact unison that Mr. Herriman hadn't begin scolding or so much given them an angry glare. Quite the contrary, he was…_laughing_.

"Goodness!" Mr. Herriman chuckled, shaking with mirth. "Can't I simply bid you all a mere good-night before you all go to pieces the instant I open my mouth? Honestly!" he laughed.

"Oh…oh! Um, right, ha ha!" Frankie giggled nervously. "Er, good night, Mr. H!"

"G'night!"

"See you in the morning!"

"Sweet dreams!"

"Thank you. Now then, don't you have some unfinished business that requires you immediate attention, Master Wilt?" he asked politely with a bit of a playful grin.

"Oh, right!" Wilt shook his head furiously with a large smile. "Sure do! Off we goooooo!" he whooped as he slung Frankie over his shoulder and bounded off into the foyer and up the stairs.

"EEK! Too fast! You're going too fast!" Frankie squealed as she bounced up and down, desperately trying not to drop the child or imaginary blob in her arms.

"Don't let go!" Mac pleaded through a fit of giggles as he clung to her arm tightly.

"WHEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE" Bloo hooted, enjoying the free ride for all it was worth.

Mr. Herriman remained where he stood for a few moments, still laughing merrily at the absolutely ridiculous sight.

"Such a peculiar family…ha! Goodness, never in all my years…." He chuckled as he hopped off to his personal quarters.

* * *

"Goodnight, guys!" Frankie said cheerily, leaning against an open doorway as Wilt and Bloo wearily plodded off to their room.

"G'night, Frankie! Sweet dreams!" Wilt chuckled.

"See ya tomorrow morning!" Bloo yawned.

Frankie smiled briefly at the two as they left to fetch themselves a good night's sleep, before turning her head to peer into the room behind her.

"All set?" she asked.

"All set!" Mac chirped in reply as he clambered into his bed. With a tired grin, Frankie strode over and began to tuck the little boy in snuggly.

"Teeth brushed?" she asked as they cruised through their nighttime routine.

"Yep!"

"Did you remember to floss?"

"Uh-huh!"

"Face washed?"

"Give me a good-night kiss and find out for yourself." Mac snickered. Frankie rolled her eyes and then wagged a finger at him.

"You try and pull off that and you can start getting your good-night kisses from Duchess, Mr. Wise Guy." She giggled as she fluffed up his pillow. The boy grimaced and stuck out his tongue.

"Ewww! Gross, Frankie!" he protested.

"Hey, you started it, you little goof." Frankie chuckled as she gently sat herself on the side of the bed. Smiling tenderly at the dozy little boy, she began to stroke his head affectionately. As Mac yawned loudly, Frankie took that as her cue to break out into a soothing lullaby.

_"Hush, little baby, don't say a word _

_Your big sister's gonna buy you a mockin' bird_

_If that mockin'bird don't sing _

_Your big sister's gonna buy you a diamond ring_

_If that diamond ring turns brass, _

_Your big sister's gonna buy you a looking glass…"_

The notes rang out clearly and softly from her throat. Completely entranced by her melodious singing, Mac listened contently as the slightly revised lullaby quickly lulled him into a peaceful slumber.

_"If that looking glass gets broke _

_Your big sister's gonna buy you a billy goat_

_If that billy goat don't pull, _

_Your big sister's gonna buy you a cart and mule_

_If that cart and mule turn over….."_

She trailed off as soon as she noticed that Mac's eyelids had fully shut, and all that could be heard from him was the sound of soft, rhythmic breathing as he fell fast asleep. Still softly humming the gentle tune, Frankie leaned in and planted a tender kiss on the boy's forehead.

"Goodnight, Mac."

With that, she carefully eased herself off the bed, tip-toeing silently across the floor so as not to wake up her "little brother". Before she exited the room completely, Frankie took one glance back to gaze affectionately at the slumbering child.

"Love you, pal." She said softly with a warm smile as she flicked off the lights. The young woman then quietly closed the door behind her and with a yawn she exited into her own bedroom across the hallway, ready for a good night's rest.

* * *

"Uuuggh…what tha…?" Frankie groaned as she was gently shaken awake, snapping her out of a dead sleep.

"H-hi Frankie…" Someone whispered timidly. The weary girl groaned as she turned over in her bed, half-opening her bleary eyes. In the dark, it was difficult to make out the speaker by sight alone, but even in her half-asleep state she was able to tell who it was by voice alone.

"…Pal?" she moaned concernedly, opening her eyes a little more. "What's wrong? Did you have a nightmare?"

"No, not really." Mac confessed with a bit of a blush. Frankie grumbled in annoyance as she shut her eyes again.

"Mac, it's _really_ late, if you don't-"

"It was me." Another voice sounded meekly in the dark from the other side of her bed. Frankie's eyes snapped open as recognition quickly dawned upon her.

"Bloo?" she asked curiously, rolling over to come face to face with the small blue imaginary friend. "What in the world?"

"_Bloo_ had the nightmare." Mac began to explain. "He got really freaked-out about it, so he went into my room, and I told him he could sleep with me. Thing was though, he kinda kept talking about his nightmare, and-"

"I-I…I dreamed there was a cannibal ghost in my closet." Bloo whimpered.

"…Huh?" she mumbled incredulously as she cocked an eyebrow.

"Yeah." Mac nodded. "So then he started asking me if there was a cannibal ghost in _my_ closet. I tried to tell him to knock it off, I really did! But Bloo wouldn't stop, and he just kept on asking me, and talking about ghosts, and then I…I…I dunno, I guess I got a little…well…"

The thoroughly embarrassed child trailed off. Frankie tried to give him a stern glare for waking her, but she quickly found that she could do little else but smile weakly at the spooked little boy. Without further delay, she casually tossed her sheets aside and made a patting motion, gesturing for them to get in with her.

"C'mon guys, we're not getting' back to sleep any faster." She murmured. At this the two wordlessly climbed onto the girl's bed and curled up next to her on either side.

"Goodnight, Frankie." Mac whispered as he nestled in the crook of her neck. Frankie grinned as she took each one under her arms and hugged them closely to herself.

"Shhhh, go to sleep, guys. Go…t-to…"

Frankie felt so exhausted, she couldn't even finish her last sentence. With a contented sigh, her eyes droop shut as she slowly slipped back into dreamland. Quickly following his big sister's example, Mac too shut his eyelids as he snuggled happily into her warm, protective embrace. Perfectly at peace, both the "siblings" settled down for a peaceful night's rest. Most unfortunately for them however,

"What if there's a cannibal ghost living in _Frankie's_ closet?" he whispered nervously like a frightened child.

At this, Frankie's eyes immediately bulged open. She lifted up her head, looked over at her partially closed closet door, and despite her best efforts, found herself unable to dismiss the unusual possibility.

"...Frankie?" Mac whined as he felt her tighten her hold on him with a hoarse whimper.

* * *

"Huh? Wha….?" Wilt murmured. He groaned in confusion while he was woken up by one…two…no, _three_ others crawling under the bunk bed and snuggling up to him.

"What's going-" he tried to inquire sleepily.

"You don't wanna know." Frankie groaned as she wrapped one arm around him tightly, clinging to him like he was a giant teddy bear.

"Wait, but…"

"Trust us, you _really _don't wanna know." Mac murmured wearily as he nestled up to Frankie.

"But I just want to…" Wilt drowsily protested.

"I thought that there was a-_OW_!"

Bloo yelped as Frankie reached over Wilt to give the small blue friend a swift light punch to the shoulder.

"Go to sleep! _Now._" she snarled irritably.

"I'll be good." Bloo whimpered.

"Good." Frankie grunted in reply. "Goodnight, Mac. Goodnight, Wilt. Goodnight, Bloo."

"Goodnight, Frankie. Goodnight, Bloo. Goodnight, Mac." Wilt mumbled.

"Goodnight Bloo. Goodnight, Frankie. Goodnight Wilt." Mac yawned as he closed his eyes.

"See ya in the mornin', guys." Frankie mumbled. With that she let her eyelids drooped shut, all set to finally get back to sleep. Unfortunately for her, and her bunkmates…

"B-but...but what if he's not in the closet anymore? What if the cannibal ghost is _in my bed_?" Bloo whispered, quivering in fright.

Wilt's eyes snapped open as he glanced upwards at the bunk directly above them.

"Frankie…?" he gasped nervously. After staring at the bottom of the bunk along with her imaginary friend for a few moments, Frankie shivered slightly and tightened her hold on Wilt and Mac.

"…Okay, c'mon guys." She groaned. "I guess we better get going. I'm just not sure if Grandma's gonna like sharing her bed, though."

**The End**

* * *

Well folks, there you have it. What'd you think? Be honest!

As for me, personally...I really don't know what the future's gonna bring. One thing for sure though, I'm probably gonna make a definite shift away from the angst genre and more to wacky, humorous stories (along the lines of my short story, "Can You Spell Awkward?") No big deal, I just don't think I'd be able to top what I was able to accomplish in "More Than My Friend," and

"Falling Apart", which to me are basically as intense and dramatic as I can get.

Besides, by the look of the classes I'm taking this year (Chemistry _and _Pre-Calculus, oh God have mercy on my soul) I'm gonna have a lot less free time on my hands by the look of things, so really when it comes down to it, at best all I'd be able to come up with are a bunch of one-shot fics. However, when I get to those, they're all gonna take place after the events of "More Than My Friend" and "Falling Apart", meaning for all of them Mac's gonna be living at Foster's with Frankie acting as his big sister/guardian/motherly figure. I'm not sure when I'm going to ge to those, but I already have a couple ideas I'm messing around with right now that I'm actually pretty excited about.

So that's pretty much all I've got to say for now. Once more, thank you all so much for all your support and encouragement! It really made a huge difference! Thank you so much guys! Hopefully I'll have more fics to come! See ya later!

-Dude13


	18. Self Doubt: A Short Story

**Self-Doubt**

The sleek black car gently eased into the garage of Foster's Home for Imaginary Friends. After the ignition was turned off, the driver's door swung open to reveal an exhausted young woman, clad in a purple skirt, pink shirt, knee-high leather boots, and fiery-red hair worn down around her shoulders. Dressed in such flashy party attire, one would've thought that the girl would match the mood of her clothes, that is, light-hearted, upbeat, and a bit giggly after a night out with her friends.

However, Frances "Frankie" Foster was feeling anything but gleeful as she clambered out of her grandmother's car. As soon as she slammed the door shut, the somber caretaker of Foster's leaned herself against the vehicle with a weary groan. Muttering ruefully under he breath, she closed her eyes briefly as the memories of her night out quickly flashed through her mind.

_"…Hey! Bartender! Two more, right down here!"_

_"Two more? Blech, Frankie, I couldn't even handle one shot of that stuff."_

_"Just sit back and watch a pro do it…"_

"…_Yeah babe! Shake it!"_

_"Woohoo! Go for it, sweet-cakes!"_

_"You boys want some of this? Huh? Do ya…"_

_"…Baby-Doll, what's wrong? C'mon, why don't…"_

_"No, no I can't! I just can't! I gotta go!"_

_"Honey, what's the deal? Why-"_

_"I just CAN'T!"_

_"Huh? What the fu-"_

_"Get away from me! I gotta go…"_

Frankie winced painfully as the events of the night played over in her head. Quickly she tried to tune it from her mind, but to little avail; her brain insisted on replaying the awful memories again and again like repeats of some God-awful movie. Sighing heavily, the girl woefully dragged her feet into the old Victorian mansion she called her home, shoulders sagged and head bowed as if she was a mourner taking part in a funeral procession.

"Stupid, stupid, stupid." She growled angrily at herself as she lurched through the front door and into the foyer. How could she have acted so carelessly? Even her own friends, who loved nothing better than a fun night out, even they had been disgusted by her outrageous behavior. The drinks she had chugged down like a wild sorority girl…the flamboyant manner in which she had acted on the dance floor…not forget of course that nasty "incident" in the parking lot.

Frankie moaned. How long did she talk to Mr. Herriman in a complete role-reversal before she had left? How many times did she go over where she had left all the phone numbers that she could be reached at? How many times did she insist over and over that he swear to her that everything would be all right, and nothing bad would happen to a certain eight-year-old child while she was out? After what she put him through, she knew very well the Bunny would have a field day if he learned how she had really conducted herself that night, after endlessly going over the motions to show how "responsible" she really was-

The somber girl interrupted her train of thought as an odd noise reached her ears. Did someone leave the TV on again? Groaning in annoyance at the carelessness of some of the resident imaginary friends, the caretaker wearily plodded off to the nearby TV room to take care of it.

As soon as she reached her destination however, an all-too-familiar sight immediately befell her. In the darkened room, she saw the dull glare of the TV, on which rolled the credits of some movie that had just ended. From the "spooky" lettering and cheesy music playing in the background, Frankie guessed the last person to use the TV set had been watching some old, B-rated horror flick.

Someone however, who had obviously missed the ending in his attempt to get in some late-night movie time to himself. Even in the dim lighting, Frankie instantly recognized the dozing culprit splayed out along one end of the couch. The unusually gangly imaginary friend cut a ridiculous sight in the manner in which he had fallen asleep. His head was cocked to one side in an odd fashion, his long legs and single arm were lying askew in a bizarre tangle, and a small puddle of drool had begun to pool up in his half-open mouth. Trying to stifle a weak smile, Frankie quietly tiptoed her way over to the side of the napping creature.

"Wilt?" she asked softly, giving the lanky imaginary friend a gentle prod. "Wilt? You awake?"

After another poke, Wilt suddenly stirred, opening his eyes with a tired groan. Mumbling something incomprehensible under his breath, he turned around to give her a blank, half-awake stare. Glaring at her through bleary eyes, it took him a few seconds to fully comprehend exactly what was going on.

"Huh? Wha-_GAH_!" He yelped in surprise, jerking violently in his seat.

"_EEK_!" The startled Frankie squealed in surprise.

"Frankie! Oh jeez, I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I really didn't mean to, I mean, it was just _one_ little movie! I'm sorry!" Wilt began to apologize profusely almost immediately.

His odd reaction took her completely off guard. "Huh? Wilt, it's okay! I just-"

"I'm sorry!" he only continued as he begged for mercy from the bewildered young woman. "Everyone else had gone to bed, I really didn't see what the big deal was, I mean it's not like the movie wasn't that scary or anything, I would've put him to bed if I hadn't fallen asleep before him, honestly! I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm…" Wilt babbled uncontrollably, like a broken faucet.

Upset by his behavior, Frankie immediately tried to calm him by flashing a weak, reassuring smile. "It's okay! So you stayed up a little late to watch a scary movie, you do that all the time! What's the…big …"

She trailed off as an unusual lump near the end of the couch spotted her eye. Despite the fact that the flickering TV light provided only the lowest visibility, Frankie recognized the dim outline of the little figure completely.

Clad in light blue pajamas, head resting against an old sofa cushion, Mac's chest rose and fell softly as he lay in a deep sleep. Immediately Frankie walked over and gently sat herself down next to him upon the large couch with the utmost of care, so as not to disturb the resting child. At this point Wilt had raised himself from his own seat and faced Frankie guiltily, and shamefully hung his head and scuffed the floor like a naughty child.

"I'm sorry, Frankie...I-I…I know you probably wanted him in bed earlier, but since it's Friday night, I thought I'd be okay if he stayed up a little later. Okay_, The Swamp Beast of Skull Lagoon 2_ probably wasn't a good movie to let him watch, but honestly, I'm really sorry! I won't let it happen again, I-"

Wilt quickly put a halt to his frantic prattle as soon as he realized he wasn't getting any response. Looking up, he saw that Frankie hadn't so much as given him a second glance since she had spotted Mac. Instead of giving him a lecture on the importance of bedtime, or even so much as shoot him a disapproving glare, Frankie simply remained with her eyes fixated on the sleeping eight-year-old, gently running her fingers through his chestnut-brown hair. Wilt frowned confusedly.

"Frankie?" he asked cautiously. "Frankie, you-"

The girl suddenly shut her eyes and let out a long, painful sigh, oblivious to everything around her but an overwhelming feeling of guilt. After a few moments, she finally opened her eyelids again and glanced back down at the child

"I'm sorry." She whispered somberly. Before her imaginary friend had a chance to reply, the melancholy girl suddenly scooped the still dozing Mac into her arms, and without another word got up and made her way into the foyer and up the staircase.

Wilt could only remain completely rooted to where he stood as he watched leave. Even after Frankie had exited upstairs, the baffled imaginary friend continued to stand stock-still.

He wasn't quite sure what happened; but she had sounded so much like _him_ just now it was almost frightening.

* * *

Rocking Mac gently in her arms, Frankie wearily made her way up through the many staircases and winding hallways that made up the massive Victorian mansion, traveling at an arduously slow pace that made her eerily reminiscent of a wounded soldier returning from the horrors of the battlefield.

All the while, pangs of guilt gnawed at her mercilessly from within. To think, that Wilt had been apologizing to _her_ of all people, all but dropping to his knees and begging for mercy. The very thought of the episode that had taken place only moments ago made Frankie want to violently gag in complete disgust at herself. Her, being free of vice and Wilt, being the one in need of forgiveness; she felt that nothing could have been further from the truth.

Frankie felt that if she had a whip, she would flog herself until her back was raw and bleeding. If she had a bucket of hot coals on her right now, she would dig her hands into the scorching contents without a second thought and keep them there for hours. If she possessed heavy manacles, she would chain herself up without food or water for days until she was utterly emaciated. These and a myriad of medieval punishments raced furiously through her head, each one more gruesome and barbaric than the last.

However, Frankie eventually rejected them all. Not because of the sheer harsh cruelty or it all or because she realized how unreasonably harsh she was being with herself, but because she felt none of them were sufficient enough to purge her of her atrocious transgression. How dare she think herself fit to be called Mac's older sister? Or guardian? Then again, overall if anything she was more of a motherly figu-

Frankie groaned unhappily. The very fact that after these past few months she still didn't even know what to designate herself in relation to the child only seemed to prove her point further. Frankie gasped as a horrific thought crossed her mind. Maybe that's because she really _wasn't_ meant to be the one to look him in the first place.

True, her thought process was getting brazenly out of hand, but she was so blinded by her shame she honestly didn't know what else to think. At this point, mother, guardian, big sister…it seemed like none of those titles were good enough to grace her, even the simple label of acquaintance seemed all too merciful. If she was anything, then she more life a…

"Liar." Frankie whispered bitterly to herself. Yes, that was it. Fraud, that's all she was at best. How dare she willingly adopt the boy and arrogantly claim that she was more than qualified to care for him when she couldn't even look after herself?

Frankie shuddered violently as the events of the past few hours replayed themselves yet again in her mind. She felt as if what she did wasn't a mistake or a night of clubbing gone bad, but rather undeniable proof that she was completely unfit to raise a small child on her own.

Frankie looked down at Mac, as the boy continued to sleep peacefully in her arms. However, she could only do this for the briefest of moments before she had to withdraw her glance as what felt like a heavy lump form in her throat. The young woman felt as if she didn't even deserve to hold him in her arms right now; that was the privilege of a true parent or guardian, and not a mere immature girl the likes of herself.

Finally, she arrived at her destination. Hurriedly, she made her way into Mac's room and deposited the child gently with the utmost care upon his bed. As Frankie pulled the sheets over him, Mac suddenly stirred briefly in his slumber with a light groan.

"Shhhhhhh." Frankie shushed soothingly, patting his head gently. When the eight-year-old quickly settled down once more however, she continued to softly run her hand through his hair, almost entranced by the sleeping child. Unfortunately, rather than have her heart warmed by such an innocent scene, the sight only caused fresh pangs of guilt to tear ferociously at her heart, ashamed that he was so blissfully ignorant that he was being raised by the unqualified imposter she felt that she truly was. With a sigh, Frankie lowered her head to plant a light kiss on his cheek, and hurriedly rushed out of the room.

As soon as she shut his door, she quickly wiped the tears that had begun to trickle from her eyes. With a whimper she lurched off into to her own room just across the hallway, shoulders sagging and head bowed.

"You're an awful parent, you're an awful parent, you're an awful parent…" she muttered cynically to herself over and over. "All that work to get custody and you just -"

"Um…don't you think you're being a little hard on yourself?" Someone interjected softly from behind. Frankie however only shook her head furiously in denial as she tugged off her knee-high leather boots.

"Pfft! Yeah right!" she scoffed incredulously as she pulled furiously at a stubborn boot, throwing it aside without a care where it landed. "You should've been there tonight, I-_EEEEEK_!"

The moment she realized she had some unexpected company, Frankie squealed in shock and leapt nearly three feet in the air.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" an all-too-familiar lanky figure immediately apologized as he cautiously sauntered in from the doorway. "Please, I didn't mean to scare you like that, Frankie, honest! I'm so sorry, I just thought that if I could-"

Quickly regaining her composure, Frankie narrowed her eyes and snarled. "You _thought_? Well maybe you should've thought about sneaking behind my back like a goddamn stalker! God, I think I almost had a heart attack! Dammit, Wilt!" she snapped angrily.

Wilt winced painfully at her venomous reply. "Frankie, please, I'm sorry that-"

"You're sorry? Oh, Wilt's apologizing, what a big surprise!" she sneered sarcastically. "News-flash, 'sorry' doesn't…it doesn't change the fact that…I…you…I…I…"

Once she realized it was her own imaginary friend she was cursing mercilessly for no real reason, it all suddenly became too much for her to handle. An extra sharp jolt of guilt and shame suddenly stabbed viciously at her heart, finally pushing her over the edge completely. Immediately all the anger and fury was wiped clean from her expression as she glanced pleadingly at Wilt.

"I-I…I didn't-"

However, she didn't even get the chance to finish her simple apology before she was interrupted in mid-sentence by a harsh sob. After trying to unsuccessfully fight it for a few seconds, she finally gave up and broke down completely, and buried her face in her hands as the tears began to pour freely down her face like water from a bursting dam.

Wilt instinctively swung into action and in an instant was by the side of his "kid," dropping to his knees and gently taking her into a warm embrace.

"Shhhhhh." He hushed as if she was an upset infant. "It's okay, it's okay Frankie. Shhhhh."

"Oh God…Wilt…I…I didn't mean t-to…" Frankie fought to speak between her sobs.

"Shhhh, don't worry about it, Frankie. It's okay. It's gonna be alright." Wilt continued to try and calm her.

Frankie looked up briefly with puffy, tearstained eyes. Wilt returned her glance by flashing her a comforting smile. With a whimper she threw her arms around his neck and buried her face deep into his shoulder in an attempt to muffle her weeping.

"Frankie, c'mon. It's gonna be okay. So what that you had a bad night out, that's okay! That doesn't-" Wilt whispered warmly in an attempt to calm her down.

"I-I don't deserve him." She suddenly moaned dejectedly. Wilt shot her a quizzical look.

"Huh? Don't deserve what-"

"M-Mac!" Frankie continued, keeping her face buried in the protection his shoulder could offer her. "I-I don't deserve Mac!"

Wilt was stunned by her harsh declaration, and for a few seconds was struck utterly speechless. He had been expecting for her to lament about some cute guy that had gotten away, or a nasty fight that she had with one of her girlfriends; just certainly not this.

"Frankie why-"

"I don't deserve Mac because he deserves better than _me_!" she cried, perplexing him even further.

"I… I don't understand…why-"

"I made out with some guy at the club tonight, that's why!" Frankie suddenly sobbed. Wilt's eyes bulged in shock at this extremely blunt confession.

"What?" he cried, completely taken off guard. Frankie withdrew her head from his shoulder to look at him face to face.

"You heard me! What do you want me to do, paint a picture?" Frankie shrieked angrily, pushing him away and waving her arms wildly for dramatic effect. "I had some drinks, I danced about like…like a goddamn stripper for all the drunken perverts to see, and ten minutes later I was out in the parking lot exchanging saliva with some nobody! God, I don't even think I knew his name!"

"Frankie…" he gasped, staring at her blankly in shock. She glanced into his eyes before she elicited a harsh sob, after which she hastily rushed by him and tossed herself on her bed, burying her face deep in her pillows.

"Wait!" Wilt yelled, rushing over to her side. "I still don't get-"

"You don't get it? Fuck, I don't even get it!" she cried. "Oh God, a few drinks and, and I was dancing about like, like some dirty Los Vegas stripper! All the guys were making catcalls, hooting at me, and…a-and I'll be a liar if I said I didn't encourage them!"

"Frankie…" Wilt sighed painfully as he began to rub her back comfortingly.

"Next thing I know, I was out in the middle of the parking lot, sucking on this guy's face like the was no tomorrow!" Frankie moaned. "God, I was such a whore…such a slut…" she cried.

"C'mon, you're not-"

"Don't say it!" she snapped, roughly cutting him off. "Don't deny it, I was nothing but an out of control whore tonight!"

"Please," Wilt tried to plead with the hysterical redhead. "Will you-"

"Fuck!" Frankie swore uncontrollably in panic. "Who the hell am I kidding?"

"Frankie, just-"

"…I'm such a mess…no way I can-"

"Please! Won't you-"

"…I'm a no good dirty…"

"_FRANKIE_!" Wilt raised his voice in exasperation as the girl continued to mercilessly berate herself. "Please-"

"_Wilt can't you see_?" Frankie shrieked involuntarily. "Look at me! Just _look_ at me!"

"_Now_ what are you talking about?" the painfully bewildered Wilt demanded wearily. Frankie lifted her head from her pillow and glared daggers. "Is it the guy, or-"

"_Everything_ tonight took just a few drinks! For God's sake, I can I look after an eight-year-old of all things when I can't even control myself after three shots of liquor!"

"Uh…" Wilt grunted in surprise as he finally understood the root of her despair.

"Yeah, that's right!" she snapped furiously. "I _can't!_ That's how! I can't! I can't! I _dare_ you to go find someone who says drunken skanks can make a somewhat half-decent guardian for a little kid!"

"No Frankie, don't say that!" her imaginary friend protested. "C'mon, don't-"

"Jesus Christ!" Frankie swore. "I don't even know how the hell I snapped myself out of it. I mean, thank God it didn't get any further, but fat load of good _that_ did for me!" she scoffed bitterly.

"Will you please just-" Wilt tried in vain to offer a word of solace.

"Cripes, how on earth I got Mac involved in the mess of my life I'll never know, but-"

"Fra-" Wilt again tried to interject to no avail.

"I can't do this, Wilt! I can't! I can't! I can't! I _can't_!" she wailed as she beat her mattress furiously with tightly clenched fists. "I understand it now, I can't! I _can't_ look after a kid! I _can't_ do this family thing! I-I just can't! Who the fuck am I fooling?"

"Frankie-" he tried one more time before she gazed up through puffy red eyes and wailed heartbrokenly,

"How the hell can I take care of Mac when I can't even take care of _myself_?"

She then immediately let her head collapse back into her pillow in a vain attempt to stifle her sobs.

For the next few minutes, all the badly stunned Wilt could do was wait out the deafening silence that followed by continuing to gently rub her back in a futile attempt to calm the hysterical girl somewhat. However, by the sounds of her uncontrollable weeping, it was quite obvious _that_ wasn't doing him very much too good. Unfortunately, besides this, Wilt felt almost helpless. Usually, it just took a few well-chosen words of comfort, a couple warm hugs, and a reassuring smile and Frankie would be back to herself in no time, infected by his ever-optimistic mood.

The problem was though, from the second Frankie had returned home to the pitiful state she had reduced herself to now, he had barely gotten so much as ten full words in before she had dragged herself through nine levels of hell. It would be ridiculous to simply hope she'd fall asleep and everything would be better in the morning; she was seriously questioning her abilities to run her tiny, unorthodox family she had worked so hard for and loved so much.

But what was there to say? If felt like every time he had tried to say something before, Frankie responded by bitterly denouncing herself for a full minute straight, using only the very worst names and curses that came to her, utterly convinced she was an evil hag who crawled straight from the depths of hell. Now how was he, Mr. Nice Guy, supposed to compete with _that_? A criticism of her from Mr. Herriman would seem like a compliment at this point compared to the verbal lashing Frankie had just all-too-eagerly given herself.

For what felt like an eternity of painful silence, the imaginary friend strove frantically to try and find an exit from her despair.

"… Frankie?" He finally whispered hoarsely as an idea came to mind.

"Hmm?" the somber girl replied with a muffled grunt.

"Who…who was it…" Wilt stuttered as he searched his memories frantically. "Who…wh-who was it that… taught Mac how to…play basketball?" he asked a bit apprehensively.

At this Frankie lifted her head up and craned her neck to give him a profoundly befuddled look.

"…W-what?" she sniffled while wiping a few tears from her eyes.

Wilt grinned weakly, feeling a bit more confident. "That time a couple of months ago… remember? Mac really wanted to learn how to play basketball so he could play with the other kids at school at recess….Now, who was it who gave up every bit of free time she had for two weeks straight just so she could spend a few hours teaching him how to shoot hoops out back?"

"Well…um…" Frankie stammered as she clambered into a sitting position next to the lanky imaginary friend on the bed. "…uh…that was…well…"

"Go on…" he encouraged her warmly.

"…_Me_." She finally answered. "B-but…that was only because you were sick that time, and-"

"When Mac's own Mom was too busy to make it and see him perform in his school play, who was it who went out to see him, even though-" Wilt immediately demanded, much to her puzzlement.

"Well…me." Frankie admitted softly before he could finish. "It was only because Bloo needed a ride there though, and-"

"You stayed there for the _whole_ show, Frankie." He reminded her gently. "You showed me the pictures you took."

"I…I just…" she attempted to argue, but it was of little use.

"When Mac fell down and got that nasty cut on his knee last week, who was it outside with the first-aid kit literally a minute later?"

"…Me." She answered. "But I only saw it because I-I was about to get the mail-"

"When Terrence gave Mac that black eye, who was it who hung him up by his _underwear_ on top of that oak tree out back until he apologized and promised not to do it again?"

"…Me." Frankie acknowledged, this time with a bit of a slight grin.

"Who literally stayed up with him all night when he had that nasty fever last month?"

"…Me." She affirmed yet again.

"Who was there at his side within half an hour after she leaned his mom and brother died in a car accident? Who was it that voluntarily took it entirely upon herself to willingly adopt the little guy in the first place? Who was it who was so happy when he moved in to Foster's, I don't think she stopped smiling for the first two weeks? _Who_?"

Gnawing on her lip anxiously, the thoroughly embarrassed Frankie tried to avert her gaze.

"I…I-I…"

Wilt gently put a hand to the side of her face and turned her head so she faced him eye to eye. "Are these really the kind of things a bad big sister does?" he asked her bluntly.

"No, but…I, uh…" she unsuccessfully tried to object.

"Frankie, please." he beseeched. "So tonight things didn't go so well…so what?"

"But-" she tried to protest, but to no avail.

"Frankie, you just made a few mistakes. That's all it was tonight, one _mistake_." He reassured her with a warm smile. "No one's perfect. Remember that one time when you were little and while we were playing tag _I_ somehow got you stuck in the laundry chute for half-an-hour?" he reminded her with a lighthearted chuckle.

"Yeah but-"

"C'mon, you've known Mac for how long? A year? A little more? In that time, you've probably cared for him more than anyone I know, and he's not even related to you! I'm going to be real honest Frankie, if none of what you've done for Mac is out of pure love for the little guy, than I don't know what is! For Pete's sake, you actually _adopted_ him, how is that not a-"

"You think tonight was just a mistake? No, actually thinking he'd actually be better off being raised by the likes of me, that's the big mistake!" Frankie protested heartbrokenly.

"Frankie," Wilt couldn't help but scold her lightly. "You know that's not what I meant-"

"Do I look like the kind of person who can actually make a half-decent parent? I _told_ you what I did tonight, didn't I? I danced about like a professional stripper! I almost had a one-night stand with some guy whose name I didn't even know! How can _I_ possibly take care of Mac when I can barely control myself the second I'm out of the house? Look at me! Look at the crap I get myself into! I can't possibly be trusted to look after an eight-year-old! I _can't_ do this! I can't! I can't-" she cried, throwing up her arms in hysterics.

Despite her frenzied outbreak however, he doggedly refused to be swayed by her fevered objections. Rather than relent to her vehement doubt, Wilt merely flashed her a weak smile.

"You still haven't convinced me yet." He whispered truthfully with a shake of his head.

Frankie immediately went silent and stared at him blankly for a few moments. As much as she wanted to claim it was just a ruse to make her feel better, the unmistakable look in his eye said absolutely otherwise, much to her dumb shock.

Finally, a harsh sob suddenly escaped her throat and immediately the miserable girl flung her arms open and tossed them around her imaginary friend in a tight hug. Quickly Wilt snaked his arm around her and held her close.

"It's okay Frankie, it's okay-" he automatically began to murmur in reassurance.

"N-no." Frankie whimpered in reply. "No, it's not…I-I don't deserve you guys…I don't deserve _any_ of you…"

Wilt could feel his heart plummet into his stomach in despair. "_What_? Frankie, I thought-"

She just moaned and shook her head. "Slut…just a whiny, slutty drunk…" she grumbled darkly. "Why you deal with me, I…I-I don't know…none of you, I just don't deserve it…"

The desolate Wilt sighed painfully as she continued on. Just when he thought he had made a breakthrough, she had only revealed that they had progressed barely any further from where she started. With all the solace he offered completely rejected, he felt completely helpless as the miserable redhead clung to him like a sad infant hugging a favorite stuffed animal.

What else was there for him to do? Wilt had basically used up everything he had to mend her broken spirits. Unfortunately, as could be seen, all his effort resulted inadvertently with simply more absolutely unnecessary guilt to burden her soul with.

The frantic imaginary friend hastily tried to wrack his brain for answers. Was there nothing that he could possibly say to alleviate her sense of shame? How could he possibly-

Wilt put his train of thought to a screeching halt as soon as he felt Frankie suddenly tense up, and actually forcefully halt her own weeping, much to his surprise.

"…Frankie?" he asked apprehensively. "What's wro-"

"Shh!" she quickly turned her head with a finger to her lips, hushing him into silence. Frankie suddenly went very quiet as she listened intently, with eyes wide open and alert. Her head perked up.

"There!" she whispered in alarm. "Did you hear that?"

Wilt scratched his head in befuddlement. He was honestly listening as hard as he could, but couldn't hear a single thing out of the ordinary. "I can't-"

"No…" Frankie whispered to herself. "Is he actually…?"

Wilt was becoming extremely unnerved by her skyrocketing alarm. "Frankie, what is-"

She suddenly elicited a flustered yelp. In one fluid movement she slipped from his grip, leapt off the bed, and darted for the door the second her bare feet came in contact with the floor.

"Wait! Wait!" The baffled creature cried. "What-"

"I'm coming, pal!" Frankie yelped determinedly as she hurled her door open and zipped across the hallway in a blur, with the bewildered Wilt bounding close behind.

"Frankie, where are you-" As soon as he followed her into the small bedroom across the hall, he silenced himself in mid-sentence as he quickly understood the root of her panic.

Rolling about uneasily in his bed, Mac whimpered in fright in his sleep, as he lay deep in the clutches of some horrific nightmare. To Wilt, the whimpering was barely audible and he heard it only after he had entered the room. But the way Frankie dashed headlong to his side and dropped to her knees next to his bed, it was as if was the soft squeaks and whines were the most deafening sounds in the world.

"Mac, Mac!" She whispered as she shook the little boy gently. "You okay, pal?"

Unfortunately, her efforts proved futile, and the child now began to squirm about restlessly, his distressed whimpering becoming even more high pitched and frantic. Frightened by this digression, Frankie instinctively swept the boy up into her arms, stood back up and began to rock him back and forth gently in her embrace as she continued to try and wake him up.

"Mac, please!" she pleaded softly. "C'mon pal, it's okay! You just gotta wake up! It's okay, I'm right h-"

Still asleep, Mac's arms suddenly shot up and wrapped around Frankie's neck in a dazzling speed. Before the startled young woman could respond, almost immediately his frightened whining and restless squirming came to a dead halt as the boy suddenly became perfectly at peace once again. With a blissful sigh, the sleeping child burrowed his head into the crook of her neck and appeared so completely content it was as if nothing had happened.

Frankie was genuinely stunned, to say the very least. For a few seconds, all she could do was dumbly stand there, arms clamped tightly around the resting eight-year-old as her mouth hung slightly agape.

Finally though, slowly but surely, she turned her head in the direction of the equally surprised Wilt. After a few moments of befuddled silence though the imaginary friend suddenly clapped a hand over his mouth to try and stifle a burst of relieved laughter, much to her confusion.

"…What?" she demanded weakly.

"All you have to do is show up and…suddenly everything's better for him?" he inquired with a triumphant sparkle in his eye.

"I…" the still baffled young woman tried to protest, unsure of what to think.

"With those results, I think you have to be doing _something_ right." Wilt concluded with a smirk.

"I…I just…well, he was...having a bad dream and…a-and…" she still found herself trying to sputter out an objection in a peculiar last-ditch attempt to prove her guilt.

"Is _this_ good enough for a second opinion?" he joked lightly as he gave the dozing Mac a gentle pat on the head.

For a moment, Frankie stared blankly at him, wordlessly glanced down to the undeniably contented child in her arms, and passed into a state of silent contemplation. Once she realized her earlier panic attack had perhaps been all for naught, a weak grin snaked its way across her face, despite her best efforts to fight it.

"M-maybe…" she finally relented in a low murmur as a fresh wave of tears welled up in her eyes. As tiny rivulets began to trickle down her cheeks again, it felt like a heavy weight had been lifted from her shoulders, and she couldn't help but laugh softly as she nuzzled the child in her embrace.

Before she knew it, Frankie suddenly found herself instinctively humming a lullaby, a comforting gesture further supplemented by gently rocking the boy back and forth in her warm embrace. For a few more minutes, she continued as she was, cradling the boy affectionately in her arms as her eyes lay fixated on the little figure in a tender and loving gaze.

"Psst! Frankie!" A short whisper suddenly interrupted the moment. She looked up as Wilt deposited himself comfortingly on Mac's bed and rested his head on the headboard while his longs legs spill out over the end. Shooting her a warm smile, the imaginary friend began to pat the mattress gently in a welcoming gesture.

"C'mon, I think you've had a long night."

Trying to unsuccessfully stifle a gaping yawn, Frankie nodded wearily in agreement as she plodded over; she had to admit it was extremely late, and exhaustion had begun to seep through every ounce of her being. Without so much as a second thought, she plopped herself on her imaginary friend's lap and nestled her head in the crook of his neck. Chuckling softly, Wilt wrapped his long, skinny arm about her and hugged her close, Frankie responding by only trying to snuggle closer.

"Th-thank you." She whispered drowsily while her eyelids rapidly drooped shut. "Thanks for everything t-tonight…s-sorry that I-"

The imaginary friend just grinned modestly and gently cut her off.

"No need to think you don't deserve it; Mac can't ask for anyone better." He happily reminded her. "Don't worry about tonight; everyone makes mistakes. It's all right, these things just happen-"

The young woman interrupted with a sleepy grin. "And when they do…y-you'll be there to remind me…right?"

She never heard his answer, however. Just moments later her eyes had closed permanently for the night, and in a minute she had fallen fast asleep, mouth slightly curved into a relieved smile as she held Mac close. Still beaming uncontrollably at the pair, Wilt nevertheless ruffled her hair affectionately while he whispered softly into her ear,

"Of _course_."

**The End **


End file.
